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SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


51B? Ko? 31. e»nell 


Little White Fox and His 
Arctic Friends 

An Eskimo Robinson Crusoe 
Captain Kituk 
S ooLOOK, Wild Boy 


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The action required at the moment was merely scrambling 
over crumbling mountains of ice toward a land in 
the distance. Frontispiece. Page 17. 


SOOLOOK 

WILD BOY 


V 

ROY Ji^SNELL 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

CHARLES LIVINGSTON BULL 


NON-REFERT 

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NVAD-a3S 


BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
1920 



Copyright^ 1920^ 

Bt, Little, Brown, and Company. 

All rights reserved 
Published October, 1920 


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Nortoooti IPrefS 

Set up and electrotyped by J. S. Cushing Co. 
Norwood, Mass., U. S. A. 

OCT 30 1920 


©CI,A601301 


CONTENTS 


OHAPTEB PAGE 

I He is Named Wild Boy 1 

n He Meets a Strange Monster ... 16 

HI The 00-Ming-Muck-Suit .... 33 

IV Due North 51 

V Indians .71 

VI SOOLOOK AND THE RaVEN FaTHER ... 85 

Vn Trapped 104 

Vni The Talking Raven 113 

IX Work of the Tide Crack Spirit . . 130 

X Hunters Hunted 139 

XI “Mounties’’ 150 

Xn SooLooK Takes the Southern Trail . . 165 

XIII Strange Magic 182 

XIV The Vanishing Herd 196 

XV “Caribou” 210 

XVI A Strange Battle 219 








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ward a land in the distance Frontispiece^^ 

With aggressive snap and yelp, the 

pack were attacking a lone beast . Page 45 

What roasts his haunches would 
make! What a parka his sleek 
coat! “86^ 

Over and over they rolled, gripping 
and struggling, deaf to the wild 
screams of the raven . 


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SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 

CHAPTER I 

HE IS NAMED WILD BOY 

In one quarter-circle sector of a snow house 
cowered an Eskimo boy. Perhaps he was 
ten, perhaps older. He sat there alone in 
desolation. Had his fur parka been removed, 
one might have counted his ribs, or laid a 
hand in the hollow of his sunken hips. He sat 
there half in sleep, half in stupor, as was the 
way of his people in starving time. No 
motion, no thought; this hoarded the mar- 
row in their bones. 

The snow igloo was dark. Only a seal- 
oil lamp, flickering out the last few drops of 
oil, set three shadows tottering and leaping 
on the wall. Two men and a woman occupied 
the opposite quarter-circle of the hut. They 
were holding a low, murmured conversation, 
and their council treated of the boy, of old 
men and of dogs. 


2 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


The tribe was starving. No seal were to be 
found at the breathing holes. No walrus 
broke their way through the hard roof of the 
ocean ; no white bear came prowling, and had 
one prowled who knows how the combat 
would have ended ? Strong, well-fed men 
and dogs fight well, but these — ? 

In times of starving, the life of the tribe 
is at stake. Then the old, the young — 
those who neither hunt nor dress the meat — 
is it not well that they perish first Is it 
not thus that the tribe lives longest? So 
reasoned the tall hunter, and the short hunter 
agreed ; but the woman was undecided. 
Should they kill the boy ? She did not 
know. 

Already two forms lay out beneath the 
golden moon. The boy had seen them only 
a little time before. They were the figures of 
an old man and a child. Their white, sunken 
faces, framed by the whiter snow, had im- 
pressed him strangely. Yet he was too young 
to understand much of death. 

But the woman wavered, undecided. At 
last came her decision ; less cruel perhaps, and 


HE IS NAMED WILD BOY 


perhaps more cruel it was than the plan of 
the men. 

The snow door was removed and the boy 
thrust out. Then the door was closed again. 
The door was a soft thing of snow which 
could be broken in with one sturdy kick. 
Yet the boy did not kick it. In a strange, 
vague way, he realized that he had been thrust 
out to make his way among the dogs. If 
chance brought a fair wind with game, the 
dogs would be thrown a bone now and 
again. For were the dogs not necessary to 
the tribe ? Without them meat could not 
be drawn long distances, and without them 
the tribe would be no match for gaunt white 
bears. Then, too, the dogs had ways of 
finding food. The sturdiest of them made 
long trips to the tundra, there to surprise a 
snowshoe rabbit or a ptarmigan. 

All these things the boy sensed in a dim 
fashion. He now moved away from the 
igloo to the door of another, — the fourth 
to the right. Here, in a circle, sat twelve 
dogs. A single seal had been captured that 
day, and the greater part would be eaten in 


4 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


that igloo. The dogs awaited bones and 
gristle. The boy took his place in the group, 
squatting there as they squatted. A sort of 
grin passed slowly around the circle, — a dog 
smile that seemed to say, ‘‘His skin is tender, 
his bones are soft.” 

Suddenly an arm was thrust from the igloo 
and a bone dropped in the center of the ring. 
Instantly there was the chop-chop of jaws, 
and the lolling of tongues, yet not a dog moved. 
The bone would go to the strongest. But 
who was the strongest? That had not been 
determined. In days of plenty, the master 
of the pack is known, but “time makes 
cowards of us all ”, and so does hunger. What 
dog could know that his failing, flickering 
spark of life was brighter than his neighbor’s ? 
If one tried it would bring on a battle, — a 
battle between two, while the circle watched 
in grinning eagerness. For the law of the 
primitive had long since determined that the 
vanquished should be food for the pack. 
Oh, yes, his bones should crack ! 

In time one of the dogs would have dared 
his strength against any adversary, but the 


HE IS NAMED WILD BOY 


5 


boy, knowing the rich, sweet marrow in that 
bone and feeling the gnawing hunger in his 
very soul, moved first. 

Then, like a dark shadow, a black demon of 
a dog sprang full upon him, sending him crash- 
ing upon the ice. But the boy was of the 
wild. He was at once upon his knees. A 
copper-pointed knife, a gift from an old man, 
shone above his head. 

The black demon rushed again. He was 
slashed, but with his terrible fangs he slashed 
in turn. The boy’s parka was torn, his 
shoulder crimson with blood. But the blade 
was copper-crimson, too. The dog had felt 
and paused to shiver before he rushed again. 
Yet his rush this time was more fiercely de- 
termined. The boy crashed to the ice. His 
knife clattered beyond his reach, and there it 
glimmered in the tantalizing moonlight. 

The circle moved closer. Jaws chop- 
chopped, and tongues licked rapidly. Now the 
dog had broken the feeble grip upon his hairy 
coat and his muzzle touched the boy’s throat. 

But in that second some strange commotion 
stirred the atoms beneath the hard skull of a 


6 SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 

gray fury of a dog. And in that instant he 
sprang. 

In one wild spasm of action the boy was now 
on his knees, now standing, now again 
crouching in the circle. The battle had 
changed. But beneath his parka, cunningly 
concealed, was the seal bone. 

The battle, then, was one as of old and de- 
scribed by a hundred pens, — a battle between 
two dogs of the pack. There is need here 
only to tell that the Gray Fury won, and when 
the pack at last slunk away their number was 
eleven, unless, perhaps, one were to count the 
boy, who, having cracked the seal bone and 
eaten its marrow, journeyed with them. 

A blizzard had come howling down from the 
north. Blotting out the moon, turning the 
world into a whirling sheet of white, it cut 
and slashed at man and beast. Gray Fury, 
the wild boy’s friend and defender, seeking 
the lee of a bank of snow, curled himself into 
a ball and lay quite still, while the snow drifted 
over him. The coat of the boy was quite as 
warm as that of the dog. Creeping close, 
he curled up beside the dog. This action was 


HE IS NAMED WILD BOY 


7 


met by neither encouragement nor rebuff. 
Soon the snow had buried them both. Not a 
sound came from them, not a move was seen, 
save now and then a circling sweep of arm or 
paw clearing the snow from nostrils and leav- 
ing place for the passing breath. They slept 
till the storm had passed, until the moon be- 
gan once more her ceaseless circling, and the 
stars burned cold in the colder blue of the 
sky. Then only two wavering strings of 
white vapor told that here two creatures of 
the wild breathed and slept. 

The boy awoke to a new world. Always 
of the wild, as were all his people, he was now 
one more point removed from that upward 
climb to the high pinnacle where man calls 
himself ‘‘civilized.” He was a member of a 
pack. And, as days sped by, he won recog- 
nition from the pack. With the Gray Fury 
as his constant ally, with his arm growing 
stronger and surer at wielding the knife, he 
won both fear and respect. 

At times old paths in his brain led him to 
doors of igloos, but there he paused, startled 
and surprised, only to return hurriedly to his 


8 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


place in the waiting circle, or in the racing 
horde of wild creatures. The famine had not 
ended, and death still lurked in the snow huts. 
The pack was reduced to nine, including the 
wild boy, but these ranged in ever widening 
circles, caring less and less for the marrowless 
bones that were thrown to them by hands 
palsied from hunger. 

As the days passed, the boy took on more 
of the ways of the pack. He learned the long, 
easy lope of his companions. Then, too, 
after they had cracked the bones of some snow- 
shoe rabbit or Arctic hare and were feeling 
strong, he and Gray Fury would fight sham 
battles, — battles after the fashion of the 
pack. There would be the crashing of shoul- 
der on shoulder, followed by the feigned cutting 
and slashing of knife and fangs. After that 
they would sit and smile at one another with 
lolling tongues till the battle began again. At 
times the dog conquered, and his fangs closed 
playfully on the windpipe of the boy; then 
again the boy conquered, and with hands 
gripping the dog’s forelegs, he jammed his 
head down under the dog’s lolling jaws and 


HE IS NAMED WILD BOY 


9 


set his teeth gently where any other member 
of the pack would gladly have sets his fangs 
with a grip of death. 

So he learned the ways and wiles of battle 
as the pack knew it, and with food more plenti- 
ful than it had been at the time he was forced 
out to fight or perish, he led the pack farther 
afield until the igloos on the ice packs came to 
be little more than a memory. 

But one day all this changed. While the 
pack slept beneath the snow of a blizzard, the 
survivors of the tribe, having secured food and 
grown strong again, came to rout the dogs 
from the snow, and with many a kick and blow 
dragged them away to toil in the harness. 
They urged the boy to return with them, prom- 
ising that, since he had survived, they would 
make of him a great hunter. But he, sur- 
prised, disheartened, irresolute, stood alone 
until the last of them had been hid by the 
snow fog ; then, behind a cut bank, sheltered 
from the storm, he sat down and, with head 
bent forward, slept. 

He awoke hungrj^ and alone. Gray Fury 
was many miles away. He could not count 


10 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


upon him to find food. He must find it for 
himself. With this thought urging him on, 
the boy ascended the hill and scoured the 
horizon. In yonder broad stretch of tundra 
a hare might be hiding ; or, if worse came to 
worse, he might at least capture a sleeping 
white owl. To the tundra he traveled, and 
there he found the fresh track of a snowshoe 
rabbit. His heart beat high with hope. But 
he had not gone far before the creature leaped 
high in air, then bounded lightly on before 
him. With patience born of the wild the 
boy followed. Again and again the rabbit 
leaped from his resting-place and sprang 
away, casting a fieeting blue shadow as he ^ 
ran. 

But now a third creature took up the trail. 
He was like Gray Fury, only his tail was more 
bushy, his coat whiter, his springing leap 
higher and wider. He followed the rabbit 
and the boy. And time lent him courage. 
He was near the boy as he crept slyly forward 
toward the resting rabbit, when something 
caused the boy to look around. 

This sudden action sent the wolf bounding 


HE IS NAMED WILD BOY 


11 


backward. Instinctively the boy felt for his 
knife. It was gone ! For a second his heart 
stopped beating, then went racing. He was 
alone on the tundra, empty-handed. Yet 
he did not rise and flee ; he remained on hands 
and knees, looking at the wolf. When the 
wolf circled as if to outflank him, he turned, 
still facing him. And as he turned there came 
to him the memory of his sham battles with 
Gray Fury. He had won many of these 
battles, quite half of them, and Gray Fury 
was twice the size of this stranger. But who 
knew what strength and prowess this wild 
thing possessed ? The rabbit, bounding from 
the grass, went loping away. He was followed 
by neither boy nor wolf. 

The wolf, having scented his prey, showed 
instinctive race-fear of the man child ; yet he 
was hungry, and the realization that this 
human was small and that he carried no long, 
stinging terrors with him, seemed, moment 
by moment, to give the creature courage. 
For now he pressed in closer. Cracking his 
teeth and sucking in his lolling tongue, he 
now and again sprang nimbly forward, to 


n SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 

snap and retreat. But the boy was nimble 
too. His feet were never there when the 
wolf snapped; his face — grim, smiling, de- 
termined — had turned that way. 

For hours they parleyed. But at last, 
wearied, the wolf made a sudden sally, ripping 
the parka from the boy’s shoulder but not 
tearing the flesh. For a second he felt a 
strange grip on a foreleg, then tore away. 
After that, for some time, he sat staring 
at the boy. But when he rose he made a 
fiercer attack, tearing at the boy’s shoulder. 
This time the grip on his leg was stronger, 
surer. He was thrown on his back, but 
again, with a snarl and a strain, he escaped. 
And now, thoroughly angered and driven 
frantic by the smell of blood, he rushed in 
madly. For an instant his fangs tore flesh; 
but in that instant the boy’s hands found their 
mark. Gripping the wolf by both forelegs, 
well up from the knees, he wrenched at them 
with all his strength till the snarling jaws 
loosed their hold. Then with a move quick 
as the ptarmigan’s flight, he forced his head 
beneath the beast’s lower jaw and set his 


HE IS NAMED WILD BOY 


13 


teeth on its throat, “where life bubbled near 
the surface.” 

Here the game had ended in all sham battles 
with Gray Fury. In this battle with the wolf 
there was no truce. The wolf, strangling, 
throbbing, shivering with rage and fear, with 
his strong hind legs tore at the boy’s parka 
and his tender flesh. Soon the parka was in 
shreds, the skin lacerated and bleeding. But 
with grim determination the boy kept his 
teeth set until with a final shudder the wild 
creature straightened in death. 

For a few moments the exhausted boy lay 
beside his quarry ; then, rising, he sought soft, 
dry moss to stop the flow of blood from his 
wounds. This done, he sat beside the one- 
time fierce creature that had sought his life. 
Dimly there came to him the realization that 
he had performed a remarkable feat. He had 
killed a white wolf single-handed and without 
weapons. In all the strange tales told by 
camp fires, in all the songs sung, no such feat 
as this had been recounted. And at thought 
of this, there came to him a human desire not 
of the wild. He wished to boast of his 


14 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


prowess. And to whom could he boast save 
to other humans ? 

Having torn the wolf’s tongue from between 
his jaws, he allowed it to lie on the snow until 
it froze, then he ate it. After that, gripping 
the hind legs of the creature, he threw it 
across his back. 

It was a long, hard journey back, but finally 
the boy came within sight of the white- 
domed igloos that shone in the moonlight. He 
was soon among his admiring fellows. He was 
congratulated by the men, while the women 
rubbed his wounds with fresh seal oil and 
dressed him in a splendid new parka of spotted 
fawn skin. 

That night he crept beneath the deerskin 
covers under the soot-blackened roof of the 
igloo. But, though he gazed long at the 
blackness, he could not sleep. Omnok, the 
short hunter, lay next to him, and the warmth 
of his fiesh was irritating. Atatak, the 
woman, snored as she slept. The igloo was 
close and stuffy. Outside sounded the night 
wail of a dog. He recognized the call of Gray 
Fury. Silently slipping from the bed-shelf. 


HE IS NAMED WILD BOY 


15 


he drew on his duck-skin shirt and his parka ; 
then he crept through the door and closed it. 
The wind was blowing the snow about, but 
he sought out the dog, Gray Fury. The boy 
was at once set upon, and a sham battle fol- 
lowed; after which the two curled up, as on 
that first night, to sleep beneath the snow. 
The passing of the storm left the moon to dis- 
cover two wavering strings of steam rising 
where they slept. 

After that the tribesmen spoke of him as 
‘‘ The one who sleeps with the pack ; he who 
slew a wolf unarmed and single-handed : 
WUd Boy.’’ ^ 


CHAPTER II 

HE MEETS A STRANGE MONSTER 

Out on the dark waters of the far, northern 
sea floated a strange house boat, — a house of 
snow on a raft of ice. 

Before the opening to the house sat a solitary 
Eskimo boy of seventeen. His head drooped 
far forward, his arms folded across his seal- 
skin pook-sack, he slept. It was ‘‘Soolook”, 
Wild Boy. 

Does one will to travel thus in this land? 
Hardly. The current carries the voyager 
where it wills when he travels so. The swift 
waters of Union Straits, aided by the ‘‘Tide- 
Crack Spirit”, had torn up the ice floe while 
the boy slept, snug in his snow house. And 
when he had awakened, here he was. He had 
surveyed the dark waters for a time, then, 
dragging his single deerskin outside, he had 
dropped down upon it and slept. 

There had been nothing to do. Had he 


HE MEETS A STRANGE MONSTER 17 


not been of the wild, he would perhaps have 
fussed and fumed and lost sleep, and so 
lessened his chance for life. Being of the 
wild, he folded his arms across his pook-sack 
and slept. How long he slept thus he will not 
know or care ; long periods of labor and long 
hours of sleep are usual with the Eskimo. 

He awoke at last with a start. There had 
come a sudden jar, and blocks from the shat- 
tered snow house came thumping down on 
his head. In an instant he was alert — pook- 
sack on his back, copper-pointed lance and 
leather-strung harpoon in hand — ready for 
action. 

The action required at the moment was 
merely scrambling over crumbling mountains 
of ice toward a land in the distance. To one 
of the wild this was child’s play. 

Reaching the land, he scanned it up and 
down. It was a new land, quite strange to 
him, for the current had carried him far. 
But to these Eskimos of the Far North, 
strange lands have no terror. Did not this 
boy, Soolook, travel far in winter over the 
ocean’s ice, and farther still in summer by the 


18 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


great Coppermine River and Dismal Lake? 
What cared he for strange lands? 

Rubbing his eyes to drive away the drowsi- 
ness, he stood thinking. It occurred to him 
that he was hungry. 

On the beach he found the wings of a dead 
sea gull. From the quills of these wings he 
stripped the tough outer fiber and soon had it 
cunningly tied into a twelve-foot line. He 
then walked out on the solid ice which ad- 
joined the shore. Here, with his lance, he 
pecked steadily at the six-foot-thick ice till 
the dark water rose to meet him. 

Smoothing off the edge of the hole, he drew 
from his pocket a bit of ivory into which had 
been set a piece of copper, curved and double- 
pointed. With some bright red seeds for 
bait, and the sea-gull affair for a line, he be- 
gan to fish. For half an hour he bobbed the 
line patiently, without results. 

“Peele-uk-tuk” (gone), he murmured, as 
he threw his line on the ice. 

He dropped fiat on his stomach and peered 
into the dark hole for about five minutes. 
Then, grasping his harpoon, he lowered it with 


HE MEETS A STRANGE MONSTER 19 


a sudden jab. When he drew it out, a flap- 
ping, dripping flounder hung to it. The flsh 
was thin as a leaf and no larger than his hand, 
but several of them would make a meal. 
He threw it on the ice and tried again. In an 
hour he had ten, — quite enough. He ate 
them frozen, raw, with a crunching relish. 
After he had flnished his meal he turned 
toward shore, bent on exploring the country. 

No land could have been more desolate. 
Cold, barren ridges, where not a shrub sprang 
from the earth, were topped with whitecaps 
of snow. The beach, which would soon be 
sandy, was still buried in snow. A few dove- 
kies, the flrst harbingers of Arctic spring, 
soared about the cliffs, or sat in solemn twos 
and threes on the rocky edges. These birds 
appeared to be the only bit of animal life on 
the island. Knowing that he must remain 
here until the ice had locked the island to the 
mainland, he hastened on to drive away his 
loneliness. Rounding a cliff, he discovered a 
sheltering ledge which offered protection from 
storms. The abundant nesting places of 
wild fowl told him he was not to want for food. 


20 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


‘‘If only I was not so terribly alone!” he 
murmured to himself. 

Then, stopping suddenly, he dropped on 
to his knees. Before him in a freshly melted 
snowbank were the tracks of some animal. 
They were too large for a fox. Was it a wolf 
or dog? For a moment his heart beat high 
with hope. If only he had a dog ! A dog 1 
As he thought of it, he realized how much these 
faithful creatures mean to his people. They 
moved the camp kits over the ice, dragged in 
the meat, and bravely attacked the great 
white bear. They starved patiently with 
their masters, and with them faced death in 
the blizzards. And what companions they 
were about the camp fires ! If these tracks 
were only those of some dog who had deserted 
a cruel master and taken to living in this 
strange land ! But his hopes fell. If it were 
a wild dog, was he not as much to be feared 
as a wolf ? And what if it were a wolf, — if 
there were several wolves ? 

That night he slept as he had on the ice 
raft, his head drooping, his hands crossed 
over his lance and harpoon. His back was 


HE MEETS A STRANGE MONSTER 21 


to the cliff, and before him smoldered a fire 
of driftwood. 

Once, half-awake, as in a dream, he seemed 
to see two fiery red dots gleaming where the 
cliff cast dark shadows. But when he was 
fully awake they had gone. 

The next day, after climbing high on the 
cliffs for birds’ eggs, he walked a long way on 
the beach. He came, at last, upon the frozen 
carcass of a great dead whale. Here he made 
sure that there were many creatures on the 
island. Foxes, with their small teeth, had 
gnawed low; higher up, dogs or wolves had 
torn at the meat and blubber. How many 
there were he could not tell, but not one or 
two of them could eat that which had recently 
been torn away from the carcass. But strang- 
est of all, far above where these creatures could 
reach, great holes had been eaten in the whale. 
When the boy examined these holes closely, 
he realized that they could not have been 
made by a white bear, for the teeth that had 
left marks in the frozen meat were too pointed. 
What could it be ? No creature such as this 
had ever crossed his path before. As he 


22 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


searched along the cliffs, he came upon strange 
tracks in the snow. It could not be a polar 
bear. The polar bear’s claws are mere hard, 
horny toes, blunt and harmless; but this 
creature’s claws tore gashes two inches long 
in the hard-crusted snow. And he was im- 
mense ! The boy knew this when he came 
upon a side of the cliff where the beast had 
stretched himself to a great height and 
clawed at the soft rock, as if to inscribe his 
name there. 

The boy walked slowly back to his cliff, 
deep in thought. He was not alone on the 
island, but he had no companion. If only he 
had a dog! While he was thinking this, his 
eye caught sight of a moving object on the 
hill above him. Creeping slowly forward, then 
springing to his feet, he caught a glimpse of 
two sharp-pointed ears and two shining eyes. 

“Camoogon!” (dog) he whispered excit- 
edly, racing to the top of the ridge. But 
when he reached the crest, the creature had 
vanished; and search as he might, he found 
no further trace of it. 

That night, before he slept, he gathered 


HE MEETS A STRANGE MONSTER 23 


much driftwood for his fire and dragging some 
great ribs of a whale close to the fire, he built 
a sort of barricade around it. Then he sat 
down to sleep, as the night before, with hands 
crossed over his weapons. But his sleep was 
troubled with dreams : now he chased wild, 
fieeting things over the hills ; now they turned 
and pursued him; and now he battled with 
some great monster whose claws were as 
blades of hunting knives. At the end of these 
nightmares he would awake with a start and 
stare about him, then throw more wood on the 
fire and fall asleep again. 

Days followed, wonderful days of spring, 
when all the air was full of bird life, when the 
ice melted and little white rivers of water 
were everywhere. The boy reveled in all 
this and feasted on eggs and wild ducks, 
caught with his bolas balls. But never did 
he cease to think of the four-footed creatures 
that inhabited his island. Never did he 
sleep without his hands crossed on his lance 
and a fire burning before him. 

One day, as he climbed high on the cliffs 
for eggs, strange sounds came to him from 


24 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


over the top of the ridge; sounds as of 
the noise of battle, — such a battle as he 
had often witnessed between a great white 
bear and a pack of dogs. Dashing down the 
cliff, at infinite danger of being crashed to the 
earth below, he seized his lance and tore up 
the slope from which the sound had come. 
When he arrived there, all was silence. The 
battle was over, if battle there had been. At 
first he thought he had heard only the moan- 
ing of the wind, but of a sudden his ear caught 
a low whine. Searching among the rocks, 
his heart gave a sudden bound of joy ; there 
on the ground lay a wounded dog. She was 
terribly torn, but still alive. Could he save 
her ? She did not snap at him, as he put out 
his hand. She was too near dead from loss of 
blood. 

Hastily searching out clean bunches of moss, 
fine and dry as cobwebs, the boy covered her 
wounds to stop the bleeding; then carefully 
lifting her, he carried her down to his den be- 
hind the whalebone barrier. 

Three days she lingered between life and 
death; then she licked his hand and whined 


HE MEETS A STRANGE MONSTER 25 


for food. She would live. At that his heart 
gave a great bound, for he was to have a 
companion. 

But where were the other dogs of the pack ? 
Now he had one, he longed for more, for a team. 
How much safer would be his journey home 
over the winter’s ice if he had but a dog team 
and sled ! But there his hopes fell. He had 
no sled ; and, with no tools, how could he make 
one ? He had killed two seals, and their 
skins would make harnesses, but a sled? 

When his dog had fully recovered, when 
she had eaten and slept to eat and sleep again, 
when her eyes grew bright, her coat sleek, 
and her tail curly, he took her for a stroll over 
the hills. All at once she gave a strange 
whine and disappeared over the ridge. What 
could this mean? Was she deserting him 
so soon? Had she returned to the wild? 
For a long time he lingered on the hillside, 
but when the twilight fell he hurried to his 
den to cook his eggs in the hot ashes of a 
burned-out fire. 

He was just thinking of sleep and feeling 
more keenly than ever the loneliness of the 


26 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


place, when, hearing a shuffle on the sand, he 
turned to see his dog returning, and behind 
her, with lagging step and hanging tail, came 
a half-grown pup. As he came close, it was 
quite evident that he had been most soundly 
beaten by this older dog and compelled to 
follow. The boy’s heart gave a great bound ; 
not only had his friend returned, but she had 
brought a companion. Now, if only he had 
a sled ! 

In the weeks that followed, this little drama 
of dog land was repeated three times, and three 
more dogs were added to the boy’s pack. Five 
dogs ! What a famous team. With much 
pains and some suffering from bites and 
scratches, he broke them to drive, and then 
dragged great quantities of whale meat near 
his den. 

But in all this he never forgot the great and 
terrible creature who made marks on the cliffs, 
high above the boy’s head, who had whipped 
a pack of five dogs, and left their leader to 
die. Always he slept with his dogs grouped 
about the fire and with his hands crossed over 
his lance. 


HE MEETS A STRANGE MONSTER £7 


There came a time when he almost feared 
to sleep. The nights had stretched on and 
on till the day was scarcely four hours long. 
The sea was being blocked with ice, and al- 
ready a thin snow veiled the island. Soon the 
ocean would be solidly covered, and he could 
leave his island of exile. But just at this 
time he discovered the broad tracks of the 
gigantic terror not ten harpoon lengths from 
his den. He had carried away a great piece 
of whale meat. With much labor, the boy 
had secured five seals. These he had hung 
over the whale ribs to freeze, as he intended to 
take them on his journey. But now the 
monster had found the whale meat, would he 
not carry away the seal meat, too, and would 
he be satisfied with that? 

With these thoughts running through his 
mind, the boy made a long journey up the 
beach. He was on a ridge quite unknown to 
him, when he uttered a sudden, low exclama- 
tion. He had come upon the bones of a man. 
They lay unbroken and undisturbed, as if 
he had fallen asleep there. Some wandering 
tribe had built their snow igloos near this 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


shore ; this man had died, and his companions 
had carried him to this lonely ridge. At 
once the boy was on his knees searching among 
the rocks near the bones. With cries of joy 
he seized first a copper axe and then a chisel. 
His people buried a man’s possessions with 
him. One might not steal from the dead, 
but one could borrow. Now he could have 
a sled. 

Two short days and many long hours in 
the moonlight he labored on the sled, — shap- 
ing runners, smoothing braces, binding all 
with rawhide rope; he worked till the thing 
was finished. Then, exhausted, he curled 
up on his deerskin and slept, — slept as he 
had not for months, the dreamless sleep of 
one unconscious of all things about him. 

And that night the monster came. In 
the shadowy moonlight he approached the 
whale meat. He smelled it, seemed about 
to tear away a piece of it, then, lifting his 
huge snout, he sniffed the air. He trotted 
to the whale-rib barricade and, rearing on his 
haunches, with great forelegs crossed over the 
top rib, he smelled the seal meat. Again he 


HE MEETS A STRANGE MONSTER 29 


seemed about to carry food away, but again 
he hesitated and sniffed the air. What he 
smelled was fresh, new, alive. Then he set 
one hind foot on the lowest whale rib. At 
that there came an angry snarl, and from 
near the fire a gray fury sprang at him. She 
snapped and cracked her teeth as she came. 
The great grinning beast paused, as if in sur- 
prise. Had he not killed this fierce little 
creature long ago? 

But now his foot was on the second rib; 
one bound and he would be at them. But 
by this time the whole pack was aroused, and 
sleepily the boy rubbed his eyes. Then he 
sprang to his feet, lance in hand. The fight 
began. In wild rage the mother dog, leaping 
high against the barrier, tore at the monster 
paws. The creature, attempting to strike 
the dog a death blow, slipped from his position 
and fell with a roar. Before he could regain 
his footing, he felt a mighty thrust in his side, 
and over the barrier he saw a creature in brown 
fur and a glistening white face thrusting out 
a mighty arm of terror. He was stopped 
again and again. 


30 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


But now he was up. Roaring with rage 
and pain, he charged the barrier. The face 
disappeared, but as he dashed up the ladder- 
like structure, he was met with a fierce prod- 
ding. Again he fell, but this time brought 
down the barricade with him. When he 
arose, nothing obstructed his way, nothing 
save five small creatures and one tall slim 
one, and before them something that was red 
like the sunset. He rushed straight on. But 
what was this ? 

As he crossed the red things, they seemed to 
rise up and bite him. With a roar of pain he 
fell flat upon them and rolled to crush the 
life from them. Every movement gave him 
a thousand pains. And now the whole furious 
pack was upon him. Finally he rolled from 
the fire, but at that instant the Eskimo boy’s 
lance pierced his heart. The great silver-gray 
fury roared once and lay dead. 

“Azeezruk! Ca.^” (A bad one, is it not 
so?) murmured the boy, as he sank to the 
ground in exhaustion. 

When he had rested, he skinned the animal 
and marveled at the wonderful thick fur, 


HE MEETS A STRANGE MONSTER 31 


unlike any kind he had ever seen before. 
With joy in his heart, he fastened the skin on 
his sled and, with seal meat suflScient for a 
long journey, he hastened away through the 
perpetual moonlight toward the snow igloos 
of his people. 

And glory came to him when he reached his 
people after many days, for they marveled 
also at the beautiful skin and at the prowess 
of the boy who had killed this strange animal, 
“He is a great hunter,” they said. “He has 
killed a great and strange beast like none we 
have ever seen.” 

Then one of the men came forward to ex- 
amine the skin more closely with his failing 
eyes. He was bent and shriveled with his 
great age, for he was the oldest of them all. 
And the others made way for him and listened, 
for they knew he was very, very wise and 
remembered much of what had happened long 
ago. “Let us hear what the Wise One can 
tell us of this strange thing, ” they said. 

The old man bent over the fur for a moment 
and exclaimed in surprise. Then he told 
them: “It is the skin of the Great Bear! 


32 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


Many, many years ago, I have seen an animal 
with fur like this. But so long ago it was that 
all men have thought that the children of the 
Great Bear no longer roamed in any lands. 
The boy is a great hunter, for he is the only 
one who has killed a Great Bear since long 
ago.” 

And he marveled much, as he rubbed the 
thick fur of the great, barren-ground grizzly. 


CHAPTER III 


THE OO-MING-MUCK-SUIT 

For three whole days after his return to the 
tribe from the barren lands of the North, 
Soolook sat in the igloo. Staring dreamily 
at the seal-oil lamp, he would now and then 
start and half rise, only to sink back to 
his place on the deerskin. He was like one 
who moves in a dream. 

The thoughts that ran through his mind 
were of a varied nature. He was now a hero. 
When but a small boy he had slain a wolf 
unarmed and unaided. Now he had returned 
from an exploit not less extraordinary. He 
had slain the strange monster, known to 
only one member of his tribe, and he an old 
man bent with years. He had gone away 
alone; he had returned with a dog-team, 
harnessed to a sled. Yes, he was a hero. The 
dusky maidens of his people would smile upon 


34 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


him. He might, if he chose, challenge the 
strong youths of the tribe to meet him in 
trial of strength for the heart and hand of the 
fairest. And he would win ; for had not his 
battles with wild things taught him a cunning 
that no other knew ? 

But Soolook was still young. He thought 
more of adventure than of anything else. 
Two great mysteries, the solution of which 
offered two great adventures, held first place 
in his busy mind and goaded his restless soul. 
There was the Oo-ming-muck-suit and there 
was the Kabluna. Long he pondered over 
the tales which he remembered to have 
heard of the Kabluna. The Kabluna were 
a people, so the stories ran, who lived far, 
far toward the land of the rising sun and quite 
as far toward the land of the setting sun. 
Also, they were thought to live in the land 
whence the wild duck and the caribou came 
in the springtime. Great and terrible was a 
Kabluna. Standing three times the height 
of the tallest Eskimo, he stalked over the land 
with giant strides. With a hollow weapon, 
black and terrible, he killed at a distance with 


THE 00-MING-MUCK-SUIT 


35 


a magic of great noises. As for the appear- 
ance of this terrible tribesman, his face was 
very white, except where it was covered with 
a beard like the willow brush in winter. And 
in the midst of his snow-white forehead burned 
a fiery eye, which turned this way and that, 
seeing all things. 

Three days Soolook sat on the deerskins 
and gazed at the light of the seal-oil lamp. 
At the end of the third day, he rose and sharp- 
ened his lance on a sandstone rock. Then, 
calling to his most trusted dog, he threw a 
sealskin pook-sack filled with dried meat and 
a bladder full of seal oil across his back, and 
walked out into the moonlight. 

A few days later a wild, autumn blizzard 
swept the ocean ice. Here, around up-ended 
ice cakes, it sent whirling jetties ; here set the 
tops of giant ice piles smoking like live 
volcanoes, and here swept an ice pan clean as 
a skating-rink. Hidden away in a niche be- 
tween ice cakes were two brown spots, a boy 
and a dog, — Soolook and his dog. 

' Soolook sat in his accustomed position when 
asleep, with head drooped forward, nearly 


36 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


touching his outstretched arms, which were 
crossed at the wrists over the two wooden 
shafts of his harpoon and lance. Beneath 
these lay a sealskin pook-sack. 

All unconscious of the blizzard, the boy 
slept, and beside him lay his dog. All un- 
conscious of the blizzard they were, but not 
insensible to everything ; they slept with 
ears awake. 

Now, by a distant ice pile some white 
thing stirred and crept toward them, — a 
gaunt white wolf of the Arctic wilderness 
which cracked his teeth together as he came. 

He had only just reached a protruding ice 
cake when there came a roar and a dash 
from the dog. The boy was awake at once, 
with hand gripping the copper-pointed lance. 
The wolf faded silently into the blizzard. 
The dog returned; the boy slept. 

The boy’s position would have been impos- 
sible to a white man ; but to him, to Soolook, 
who was of the primitive, whose backbone 
was as limber as a fresh-cut, rawhide rope; 
who could spring forward and kick with both 
feet higher in the air than a man’s head, to 


THE OO-MINGWVniCK-SUIT 37 

him it was a position of both rest and alert- 
ness. 

The wolf was not alone in his vigil. There 
were ten in the pack. Three days they had 
followed Soolook. It was their way of hunt- 
ing. Sooner or later he would become ex- 
hausted and sleep too long, or, starved to a 
shadow, he would fall ill, and then they would 
eat him. Had he been with companions 
they would not have troubled to stalk him, 
but alone he seemed a safe prey. Now and 
again they ran down a snowshoe rabbit, or 
stalked a sleeping seal, but they never lost 
sight of the boy and the dog. Already in 
their fiery eyes they saw him fall ; already their 
teeth tore his tender flesh. But the boy, un- 
conscious of all, save unwonted sounds, slept on. 

The sun, a gray ball of light rolling through 
the dun darkness of snow-fog, was two hours 
high when at last he stretched his arms, and, 
smiling, looked at his dog. The dog rose and 
licked his hand. 

From the boy’s pook-sack hung a horn. 
It was very broad at the base and came quite 
abruptly to a point. The old hard scales 


S8 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


had been scraped from it. It had been pol- 
ished to glistening perfection. The edge had 
been cunningly set with bits of walrus ivory. 

‘‘Oo-ming-muck-suit,” he murmured, touch- 
ing the horn. He had never hunted the Oo- 
ming-muck-suit ; his people never had. The 
horn had been traded for by his ancestors 
before the time when the Ting-ma-ni-muits 
of the far east, ‘‘they who have no chins”, 
had become wicked murderers. But now, 
for generations, the Oo-ming-muck-suit had 
been unknown to his people. And with the 
passing of years strange, weird tales had been 
told of his nature. He bellowed like the 
north wind; he was ten times the size of a 
caribou ; he tore men as a wolf tears a rabbit. 
No arrow could pierce his skin; he could be 
killed only by a blow between the horns. 
Such were the descriptions given to the boy,^ 
Soolook. And many were the weird, wild 
tales told around the camp fire. Surely, he 
was the greatest of hunted creatures, stronger 
and more terrible than the white bear, fleeter 
than the caribou, more patient than the white 
wolf. He was to be dreaded and praised. 


THE 00-MING-MUCK-SUIT 


‘‘Why did they not go to hunt him The 
boy had often asked, and the reply had always 
been, “Why hunt the most terrible, when there 
are less terrible creatures to hunt? Besides, 
there is danger that we meet the tribe of the 
chinless ones and all be killed.” 

But Soolook was young and brave. He 
would bring home new horns of the Oo- 
ming-muck-suit as a trophy and proof of his 
prowess. 

A bite of dried caribou meat, a snail shell 
full of seal oil for boy and dog, and the march 
to the strange east land was resumed. The 
wolf-pack followed behind, or walked to the 
right and left of the pair. They took no 
chances. This was not a Kabluna, he of the 
white face who killed at a great distance with 
a magic of much noise, but this boy could 
cast his copper-pointed shaft with remarkable 
skill and strength, and the flight of his copper- 
pointed arrows was greatly to be feared. The 
pack was not in a hurry. Patience is born in 
the brain of every Arctic creature. So they 
followed on. 

Three days passed as this one had, only the 


40 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


bit of dried meat, the drop of seal oil to boy 
and dog grew less and less, and the footsteps 
of the boy grew less steady and determined. 
At midday he paused and sat down upon his 
pook-sack. The wolf-pack, becoming bolder, 
pressed in, caring little for the angry snarls 
of the dog. But the boy did not heed them. 
He was asleep, all but his eyes and the muscles 
of two fingers. The fingers were turned 
about the shaft of his harpoon, his eyes riveted 
on a small round hole in the ice. Hour after 
hour he sat there. The sun went down; a 
sunset lingered; the moon shone out. The 
wolf -pack crept closer. Snapping at one 
another and lolling their tongues at the boy, 
they sat around in a wide circle. 

Suddenly the fingers gripped the shaft more 
tightly. There was a fiash of the harpoon 
point in the moonlight. 

Two hours later the wolves snapped and 
snarled over the bones of a brown seal which 
lay where the boy’s patience had been re- 
warded. The boy and the dog slept as be- 
fore, by a sheltering ice pillar, but they had 
been fed. 


THE 00-MING-MUCK-SUIT 


41 


Next day, they reached a land where high, 
white-topped mountains smoked with snow. 
Straight away over the low hills they went, 
and now the boy’s eyes were keenly alert. 
Every jutting rock, every bit of land where 
the snow was blown away held his attention 
for an instant. Sooner or later one of these 
spots would move, and he would know that 
he had come upon the master-prey, — the 
Oo-ming-muck-suit. 

The wolves, too, were much more on the 
alert. Perhaps because they knew that here 
the boy could not find seal ; perhaps because 
for them, too, the great Oo-ming-muck-suit 
was a prize. And, had it not been for the 
white wolf, the boy might never have found 
the object of his quest. 

One night, as the boy slept, the dog gave a 
sudden, strange growl. Awaking, the boy 
grasped his lance. But what was this ? 
The wolves had broken circle and, with 
tongues lolling, were dashing away. Mysti- 
fied, the boy followed, and soon his heart was 
beating wildly, for back to back, with heads 
tossing, five dark creatures faced the snarling. 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


snapping pack. The dog whined to join the 
hunt, but the boy held him back. From the 
way of the wolf he would learn many things. 
The master-prey was not as large as he had 
expected him to be, but from the attitude of 
the wolf-pack, Soolook learned the Oo-ming- 
muck-suit was greatly to be feared. 

Seated on a rock, with hands crossed over 
his weapons, the boy waited and watched. 
This was not to be a we-wait-your-weakness 
game. It was to be a snapping and a harry- 
ing, a rush-at-your-heels-if-you-break forma- 
tion ; a pitting of will against will. The 
weak of will would be the victim ; separated 
from his companions he would fall. 

But the great beasts were accustomed to 
such battles. Hour after hour they tossed 
great heads slowly up and down, to break at 
last up a hill and form again before fangs 
tore at their tendons. 

Ever the boy followed the pack. To him 
these were no longer a pack of wolves, but of 
dogs — his dogs — doing his bidding. They 
would harry till the weakest of the Oo-ming- 
muck-suit fell to their lot, then he would be 


THE 00-MING-MUCK-SUIT 


48 


in at the kill, for it would-be he, Soolook, who 
would kill the great Oo-ming-muck-suit. 

But as hours passed without end, and there 
was neither raw seal meat nor dried caribou 
meat left in the pook-sack the boy stumbled 
now and again, and his lids drooped in sleep, 
while the dog came on with trembling limbs 
and slept at every opportunity, — not the 
half sleep of watchfulness, but the dead sleep 
of starvation. 

i Now the dog happened upon two lemmings 
beneath a rock. Upon the raw meat of these 
animals boy and dog feasted, crunching their 
tender bones. The food gave them new 
strength, and to the boy came vitality for 
plans and action. He could not wait. Some- 
thing must be done, and at once. Carefully 
selecting two arrows, he tested his bow. Then 
with these and his lance, he crept up a narrow 
swale that ran close to where the wolves were 
harrying their prey. Pausing now and again, 
as if to gather strength, then creeping slowly 
forward, he drew close to the nearest wolf, 
who was sitting erect on his haunches. Si- 
lently rising to a sitting position, the boy 


44 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


drew his bow. His hand trembled, but his 
aim was true. The wolf sprang forward, 
then fell howling in death agony. The boy 
was up like a flash, his lance gleaming above 
his head. He was not a moment too soon, 
for two wolves had dashed at their fallen 
brother. A thrust at one of these sent him 
howling away. The other paused. For an 
instant the eyes of the entire pack were upon 
the boy and the dead woK. In this little 
drama was a critical moment. Would they 
attack ? The boy was not their match. Only 
their individual cowardice could save him. 
But attack did not come. Finding them- 
selves free, for the time being, the great Oo- 
ming-muck-suit lowered their heads, turned 
tail, and went snorting away. This was a 
signal for the whole pack to follow in full 
cry. 

The boy sank weakly beside the dead wolf, 
and his dog dropped beside him. Here was 
food, — food that would give them strength 
to last them to the end. Searching among 
the mosses, the boy gathered creeping birch 
and willows. With these and fine mosses he 



With aggressive snap and yelp, the pack were attacking a lone 

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THE OO-MING-MUCK-SUIT 


45 


made a fire. In a small soapstone pot he 
boiled bits of the meat, and to the broth of 
this he added blood caught in the horn of 
Oo-ming-muck-suit. This thick soup he drank 
slowly. The meat he gave to the dog. Then, 
throwing themselves on the mossy earth, 
they rested. The wolves and the Oo-ming- 
muck-suit were still in full view. 

In two hours they ate again, this time less 
sparingly. Strength had come back to them. 
The boy no longer stumbled, nor did the dog’s 
knees tremble ; but the boy’s eyes were heavy 
with sleep. 

Moving along the valley’s edge, they came 
once more near to the battle. Here the boy 
sat down, with back against a rock, shoulders 
bent, hands crossed, and without willing it, 
slept with every sense dead to all things. 

How long he slept he could not tell, but when 
he awoke the scene was changed. With ag- 
gressive snap and yelp, the pack were attack- 
ing a lone beast, he of the weaker will. 

With a cry the boy, seizing his bow and 
lance, threw himself into the fray. It was not 
enough that he secure the trophies ; they must 


46 SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 

be his by right of prowess ; he must be in at 
the kill. 

An arrow crashed into the nearest wolf. 
He went down with a whine. Another, 
turning, caught the lance in his thigh; a 
third, busied with nipping the great prey’s 
tendons, felt a blow crash against his hips 
and turned to snarl at a copper-pointed fury 
which bound him to earth. The dog, entering 
the fray, gave battle to one. Then the re- 
mainder turned to the boy. But the boy 
had only one thought: the Oo-ming-muck- 
suit ! He sent an arrow against its side. The 
weapon stuck there, its protruding length 
telling full well that it had not passed through 
the mat of hair. One tale was true, — no 
arrow would avail. The boy’s heart sank. 
But, with a bold turn, he swung about to face 
the beast with the wolves in the rear. Pois- 
ing his lance, he dashed it with full force be- 
tween the beast’s horns. With a roar of death 
in his throat, the creature fell, and wolves 
rushed upon him. 

For a moment the boy tugged at his lance, 
but it would not loosen. Then with intrepid 


THE 00-MING-MUCK-SUIT 


47 


spirit, he tore the arrows from the fallen wolves 
and sent them crashing into the ribs of the 
remaining foes. With a snarl, a single brave 
one sprang at him. He was met by the dog. 
Two wolves remained and but a single arrow. 
The arrow was adjusted with care, and it 
fulfilled its mission well. 

Seeing that his last living friend was grap- 
pling with a fiend of a dog, the remaining wolf 
dropped his tail and ran. 

Then the boy sank upon the body of the 
fallen Oo-ming-muck-suit and hid his face in 
his hands until his racing heart was stilled. 
He had won. 

After long rest and sleep, the boy, having 
sharpened his copper-bladed knife, stripped 
the skin from the carcass of the great beast. 
Beneath the skin was rich, red meat. Some 
of this he broiled over a fire and found it to 
have a strange, musky fiavor, such as he had 
never tasted before. There could be little 
wonder at this, for the Oo-ming-muck-suit 
was none other than the musk ox. 

After eating of the meat and drinking of the 
blood-broth of his kill, the boy wrapped him- 


48 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


self in the great skin, with the hair side within, 
and slept while a blizzard came and went. ; 

Then 'he hacked the great twisted horns 
from the bony head, he fastened them with a 
thong across his shoulders, and turned his 
face toward the home of his tribe. 

Six hours he had traveled over hills and tun- 
dra, when, stopping abruptly, his hands thrown 
up in amazement, he stared at the tracks of 
two men. The tracks, made since the com- 
ing of the blizzard, had crossed his path and 
disappeared up a hill. They were strange 
tracks. Where the heel sank into the snow 
it did not leave a ball-like depression, but cut 
a semicircle which was directly drawn across 
by a straight line. What manner of men wore 
such ‘‘mukluks” (native boots)? Surely, 
no tribes that had ever come in contact 
with his own. 

Stealthily he followed the tracks to the brow 
of the hill. There he found the carcass of a 
young caribou from which a hind quarter had 
been cut by a blade much keener than those 
known to Soolook. 

Glancing cautiously this way and that, he 


THE 00-MING-MUCK-SUIT 


49 


at last bent over the carcass to determine, if 
possible, what manner of death the creature 
had met. 

At length he straightened up with an ex- 
clamation : 

“Matna ! Azeezruk Ka ?” (I say ! A bad 
one ! Is it not so ?) 

He had discovered a tiny hole running quite 
through the hard skull of the caribou. No 
lance could have been thrown, no arrow shot 
with such force as that. 

“Matna! Kabluna he murmured. 

He stood there in a brown study, his gaze 
resting first on the trail of the stranger, then 
shifting to the distant ice pans where his people 
hunted, ate and slept. 

His dog had started a snowshoe rabbit and 
was bounding away after him. He circled 
the base of the hill, raced a long way down the 
gully, then, having lost his quarry in a pile of 
massive boulders, came racing back to his 
master. Still Soolook stood undecided. 

Finally, bending over the carcass, he cut 
from the back a rich roast. Then he walked 
rapidly to the foot of a cliff where, in the lee 


50 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


of the wind, he sat down. With his venison 
on a ledge of rock, well out of reach of prowlers, 
he folded his hands across his weapons, bowed 
his head forward and slept. True, he had 
slept not long before, but preceding that 
there had been long circles of the moon — 
many of them — when there was little sleep. 
To think well he must have his brain fresh- 
ened by much rest. 


CHAPTER IV 


DUE NORTH 

Had Soolook known the nature of the two 
strangers who had crossed his path, he would 
doubtless have pressed forward without fur- 
ther delay. Had he known the perilous 
predicament the two men were in, he might 
even have hastened to their aid ; for at that 
moment the mortal enemies of his people, 
Indians from the Land of Little Sticks, were 
imperiling the two strangers who had so lately 
appeared along his course. 

The two men, at the very moment that 
Soolook sat him down to sleep, were peering 
through the thick, matted branches of a dwarf 
spruce forest at the glowing light of a camp 
fire. Around that camp fire moved a score or 
more of swarthy figures. These were the 
Indians from the Land of Little Sticks. The 
camp, a few hours before, had been their own. 


52 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


Beyond the fire, in the branches of a spruce 
tree, was their skin kiak, a two-seated boat, 
made by the natives of the east coast of 
Alaska, and in it had been packed their sup- 
plies of food, spare garments, ammunition, 
traps and blankets. 

But now their camp fire burned brightly for 
others, — a wild, savage horde. They had 
gone in search of caribou and had returned to 
find this situation. They had secured cari- 
bou meat, it is true, and it hung at that mo- 
ment on a near-by branch. But other than 
this they had next to nothing ; no blankets 
certainly, and the Arctic nights were long, 
with the temperature dropping to a point 
where only skins could defy it. They had 
two rifles, but only some twenty rounds of 
ammunition. 

*‘Not enough for a successful attack,’’ 
groaned the younger of the two, a stout 
American boy of nineteen. 

Having settled this question, he sat down to 
think, and whether he willed it or no, the 
events which had brought them to this strange 
place, so far from the haunts of civilization. 


DUE NORTH 


53 


came trooping through his mind in regular 
procession. 

In Nome they called this boy ‘‘Waste”, 
because his shock of white hair always re- 
sembled a mass of the familiar engineer's 
waste. Waste had always lived with his 
father in Alaska. His mother had died when 
he was two. There were some things he knew 
a great deal about. One was prospecting; 
the other was Eskimos and Indians, though 
he had never learned the language of either. 

Now to begin with, he remembered a con- 
versation between himself and his present 
companion, Swen Petersen, who was a mature 
man of twenty-three, with a boy’s heart 
when it came to matters of adventure. The 
conversation had taken place on the beach 
at Nome. 

“Mouth of the MacKenzie.” He had 
pointed to a spot on his well-thumbed map, 
then away at a gasoline schooner which lay off 
the beach. His gesture joined the two. 

Swen had stared at the map. “Some trip, 
ain’t it?” he had said. 

“Yes, it ’s a grand trip to the mouth, but 


54 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


up the river and then up one of its branches, 
— say the Hare Indian River. Oh, boy ! 
Some trip !” 

‘‘What! They ’re not going up there?” 
The young Norwegian’s face had registered 
surprise. 

’ “No, but we are,” the boy had said. “You 
and I are ; at least, if you ’re willing.” He had 
wrinkled his brow in a worried way. Then 
he had pulled his hair and stood staring at 
the map. He had been giving Swen’s pon- 
derous mind time to swing around on its 
pivot. 

“You see these spots marked ‘Unex- 
plored’? ” he had proceeded at last. 

Swen had nodded. 

“Well, it ’s one of those spots we ’d be on if 
we went up Hare Indian River. Just think 
about it. Unexplored 1” He closed his eyes, 
as if to see it. “Father and I often talk 
about the ‘ Unexplored. ’ In winter the snow 
smokes from the peaks of the mountains and 
nobody sees it but the wolves and the caribou. 
In summer the snow runs away down the 
streams, willows grow leaves, flowers bloom. 


DUE NORTH 


55 


and only the caribou know about the willows, 
for they eat the leaves; only the ptarmigan 
know about the blueberries, for they peck at 
them; only the little birds know about the 
sparkling streams, and if there is gold glim- 
mering at the bottom, they are naturally not 
wise enough to tell it from sandstone pebbles. 
And there is gold in many a stream up there, 
if you only know where to find it.’’ 

Again he had paused to stare at the map. 
Now and again he had stolen a glance at his 
companion. 

“You know I have always lived in Alaska,” 
he had gone on, “and since I was ten have 
always gone prospecting in the spring with 
my father, of course. But now he ’s ‘struck 
it’ and does n’t need to prospect. Besides, 
he ’s down in the States where I want to go 
too, but not just yet. It is spring again, and 
there ’s the shovels and pans rusting in the 
corner of our shack, begging to be shined up 
and taken out over the hills and the tundra. 
Say ! I bet those shovels and pans have seen 
enough of the North to guide you anywhere, 
if they could talk. But they can’t. And 


56 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


you can’t go prospecting without a partner 
who can talk.” 

‘‘But how ’d we get back.f^” Swen had ob- 
jected. “River ’d be blocked with ice and so 
would the ocean.” 

“Would n’t come back,” Waste had 
laughed, “we ’d keep right on going. We ’d 
travel in a skin kiak, which is light and easy to 
portage. When fall began to come on, we ’d 
pack up and begin going southeast. We ’d 
take lakes and rivers as we found them and 
follow the season south till we came at last to 
where steamcars were tooting down some 
narrow-gauge railroad track, and there we 
are, right ‘outside’ to spend the winter in 
comfort.” 

A week later Waste had felt his heart skip 
a beat as the gasoline schooner began to throb 
and shake, and the little city of Nome began 
to grow smaller and smaller, till the houses, 
stores and churches seemed a play city of 
pasteboard, pasted to a play beach and a 
papier-m&che hillside. They were off for 
the MacKenzie River and the great unex- 
plored. Was it surprising that he had won- 


DUE NORTH 


57 


dered, as he saw it fade, when he would see 
another city as large? Had he known what 
was in the future he would have trembled and 
perhaps turned back, but he did not know. 

The trip up the coast and along the northern 
edge of the continent to the mouth of the river 
had been uneventful. Twice they had been 
halted by ice floes and compelled to make wide 
detours, but this was to be expected in waters 
of the Far North. The ice was but a few days 
gone from the river when they had arrived, 
but a side-wheel steamer had been waiting at 
the dock, so fortune gave them immediate 
transportation. 

Having paid their way on this vessel, they 
had been free to sit on deck and watch 
the never-ending panorama of willow-grown 
banks, barren hills and snow-peaked moun- 
tains, which were finally hid by near-by foot- 
hills. Here and there they had passed trading 
posts with little native villages huddled about 
them. Now and again they had met canoe- 
loads of Indians returning from their winter’s 
trapping. Now the steamer had dodged a 
belated ice cake, and now skirted some new 


58 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


snag left in the wake of the ice. And all the 
time the sun had been shining. It had been 
spring; such a spring as only the Northland 
can know, — land of the long winter night and 
the long, long summer day. 

One night, when the sun at midnight had 
made a vain attempt to hide itself below the 
horizon, and the boys were attempting to 
catch a little sleep, they had been awakened 
by a porter. 

“Be at the mouth of Hare Indian in two 
hours,” he had grinned, giving them another 
shake. 

They tumbled into their clothes, and threw 
their few belongings, not already packed, 
into the kiak ; then, having unlashed it, they 
prepared to disembark. 

Wonderful stretches of time had followed; 
they could hardly be called days, for the sun 
had been constantly shining. There had been 
hours on end when, without a word, the boys 
had plied their paddles. With silent strength 
they had sent the little craft shooting up the 
river, which held some new mystery beyond 
every bend. Now a caribou or a runaway 


DUE NORTH 


59 


reindeer had stood belly-deep in the river for a 
moment to stare at them, then he ’d waded 
ashore and gone crashing through the brush ; 
now a beaver, swimming strongly with only 
his nose above the water, had cut a line across 
stream ; now a wolf had howled at them, and 
now a great brown bear had grunted on shore. 
Always some creature of the wild, half -wel- 
coming them, half-fearing, had crossed their 
path. Waste would not have been a boy had 
not his fingers involuntarily reached for his 
rifle at the sight of big game, but he would not 
have been the son of his father had he killed 
one of these creatures for sport or for one 
juicy meal and left the carcass to rot by the 
river’s brink. There were fish in the stream, 
plenty of them ; one needed but a bit of pork 
rind and a hook and line to catch them. 
Splendid speckled beauties they were, too! 
Then there were wild ducks and geese, flap- 
ping and screaming in every eddy. These 
they had picked off with a light rifle and 
broiled over a bed of coals. It had been one 
continuous camping trip. When hunger had 
called them, they had banked their kiak 


60 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


and prepared a meal. When drowsy eyes had 
told them to sleep, they had crept beneath the 
dark shadows of fir trees and slept. There 
had been no danger of thieves, for they had 
long since passed the haunts of man. 

But they had not forgotten the thing that 
had called to them, — gold. As the river had 
sped beneath them, they had seemed to see 
its yellow gleam. As they slept they had 
dreamed of it. At last the river had divided 
into many branches. They had chosen one 
of these and proceeded cautiously forward, 
watching the gravelly banks for signs of 
‘"color” and pausing here and there to throw 
a pick and pan on the bank to test the quality 
of the sand which was deposited there. 

The stream had grown too narrow and swift 
for their craft, and they had gone ten miles 
up it on foot, when near the foot of a foaming 
rapids they had found it — “ color in the 
pan” — not a great quantity, but enough to 
set their hearts thumping and to send them 
hastening away downstream to bring their 
kiak and their kit to this spot, ready for work 
after they had had a night’s rest. 


DUE NORTH 


61 


The ‘Uead” had turned out to be one of the 
tantalizing, illusive sort. Here they would 
come upon some sizable nuggets clinched in 
among the rocks, and here a few pans which 
were rich in ^‘pay”, but there would follow 
days of patient picking and panning, with 
scarcely the ‘‘color” in the pan to give them 
encouragement. Of one thing they had been 
sure : as they worked upstream their rewards 
increased. 

One day, after weeks of this exertion. Waste 
had sat in the twilight and solemnly counted 
the knots in his string calendar. For every 
time the sun had dipped close to the horizon, 
he had tied a knot ; for every time the sun had 
dipped beneath the horizon, when the days 
began to shorten, he had tied a knot, and for 
every short night they had slept those last 
days, he had tied a knot, so now he had only 
to count the knots to tell how many days and 
weeks had elapsed since they had left the 
mouth of Hare Indian River. This would tell 
him the date. He was startled when he had 
finished the reckoning. It was later than he 
had thought. 


62 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


“When a fellow ’s after the gold, he forgets,” 
he had mumbled. 

“Swen, we Ve got to get out of here,” he 
had said suddenly, a few moments later, as 
he poised the leg of a duck, done to a turn, 
on his fork. 

The expression which spread over S wen’s 
face had been a study. Surprise, disappoint- 
ment, consternation had raced across it and 
left him staring. 

“Why — why — no — we can’t do that,” 
he had stammered. 

“Got to.” 

“Wh — why?” 

“Winter ’s coming.” 

“Why, we could stay here all winter, if we 
need to, and mine. Could build a log shack 
and — and there ’s plenty of game.” 

“ Game enough in summer and easy caught. 
But not in winter. Ducks and geese are going 
south now. You can hear them taking fare- 
well honks at this very moment. There ’d be 
fish, but you can’t live on fish alone. You ’d 
feel all right, but get weaker and weaker. 
There might be rabbits, but you ’ve heard the 


DUE NORTH 


Eskimo talk about ‘ starved on rabbit ’ ; 
well, that would be our case. No, we gotta 
get going, sooner the better.” 

For a long time Swen had sat staring at the 
fire; at last he had spoken. 

‘‘ ’T ain’t for me I ’d ask you to do it. Waste ; 
it ’s for my sister. I got a sister down in the 
States. She ’s seventeen, and she wants to 
go to school, same as you do. Now, the gold 
we ’ll get will give us a home. She can come 
to town and keep house while I earn the livin’ 
money. You see how it is. Waste ; ’t ain’t 
for me, it ’s for her. Just stick here. I know 
we ’ll strike it rich. Pretty soon, too ; mebby 
next week, mebby to-morrow, mebby the day 
after, and if we do we can get out yet, and if we 
don’t we won’t starve. The caribou ’ll be 
cornin’ down, and there ’s bears and all 
such things.” 

‘'I didn’t know you had a sister. Why 
did n’t you tell me about her before ? ” 
Waste had asked. 

‘‘Why, I didn’t think you liked to talk 
about girls. You didn’t ever talk to the 
natives.” 


64 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


“My father says God never intended for 
white men and native women to marry, but 
when it comes to white girls, — when it comes 
to having a sister ! Why ! That must be 
grand !” He had put out his hand for a solemn 
shake. 

“But that ’s just one more reason, and a big 
one, why I would n’t stay,” he had said the 
words slowly. “If you ’ve got some one sort 
of depending on you, you ’ve got no right to 
take chances. If a man ’s got dependents, 
he ’s bound to take good care of himself. He 
can’t go dragging himself into all kinds of 
danger, unless it ’s necessary, and this ain’t. 
You can come back next summer. Mebby I 
can come with you. Anyway, there ’s enough 
gold in our sack to keep your sister in school 
this winter; you can have my share if you 
need it. But out we go to-morrow with the 
rising sUn. If I ’d known it made so much 
difference, we ’d have gone sooner.” 

“All right,” Swen had said it reluctantly, 
as he had begun to unlace his shoes. 

Their course, south and east. Waste had 
mapped out carefully. They were to go east 


DUE NORTH 


65 


to a large lake, follow the southern shore of 
this to the east end, then make a long portage 
to the tributaries of a river. He did not know 
just where the tributaries were, for they were 
not marked on the map, but they would find 
one, and, once the stream was broad enough 
and deep enough to carry their kiak in safety, 
their journey “ outside ” was assured. He had 
smiled at the picture they would make, dressed 
in Arctic costume and riding a kiak into some 
town down there below. 

All had gone well till they had reached the 
lake and skirted its border. Game was 
plentiful, and with their keen vigor they made 
good time. But they had hardly left the 
lake when misfortune had overtaken them. 
In crossing a turbulent little stream. Waste 
had crushed their only compass against a 
rock, and its needle splashed into the foam. 
To add to their discomforts a dense fog had 
settled down over everything. Soon they had 
become uncertain of their directions. But, 
with this ominous fog telling of the swift 
coming of winter, they had not dared to pause. 
The land they were in was less promising than 


66 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


the region they had left, for here the forests 
had been burned over, and a sparse growth of 
timber and a grassless rocky soil had robbed 
the place of its game. Had it not been for 
the wild fowl, which had still lingered, they 
might have fared badly. Pushing blindly 
on, they had come at the end of the third day 
of fog to a sort of divide in the hills, and at 
the bottom of this ran a stream sufficiently 
large to float their kiak. 

Waste had bitterly bemoaned his lack of 
knowledge of forestry. There were ways of 
telling directions in the forests, but he did not 
know them. His life had been passed on the 
tundra and in the barren mountains, where 
the stars and the snow on hillsides were a 
man’s guides. Had they been less exhausted ; 
had there been less danger of winter settling 
down upon them ; had game been more plenti- 
ful, they might have loitered till the sun 
showed them the way. But as it was, they 
had set their kiak in the water and, leaping in, 
had trusted the stream to carry them to the 
land they sought. 

For three days more the fog had hung low. 


DUE NORTH 


67 


At times a fine mist had driven in their faces, 
chilling them to the marrow. Ever they 
had shot onward. Stream after stream had 
joined the course of their river until at last 
they had been riding a mighty current. 

Then, suddenly, the sun had come out. It 
had been behind their backs and the hour must 
be about noon. Waste gave a cry of dismay. 

“We ’re going north !” 

“Oh ! Ah !” Swen had groaned. 

“Perhaps it’s just a bend in the river,” 
Waste had said hopefully. 

But when they had traveled an hour in the 
same direction, this hope had died. A new 
one, not quite so bright, had come to take its 
place. 

“Bet we ’ve struck another branch of the 
MacKenzie, and we ’re in the river again,” 
Waste had said. 

It would have been hard to tell whether 
Swen had been glad or sorry at this new 
solution. If they were in the MacKenzie, 
they ’d winter at the first trading post they 
came to, and that would give them an early 
start back to the mine in the spring. And 


68 SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 

the mine ! To Swen, that was the absorbing 
interest ; that and after that, Freda. 

They had traveled in this hope two days. 
Waste, who kept a keen watch on either shore, 
had begun to doubt the accuracy of the de- 
cision, when something happened which made 
him certain about it. They had paused for 
lunch and had eaten on a great, grimy boulder. 
His clasp knife had become rusty and refused 
to open, so he struck it on the boulder. The 
boulder had given forth a strange, ringing 
sound. He had scraped it with his knife 
and succeeded in bringing out a spot dark- 
red in color, and with a metallic luster. 

‘‘Copper,” he had muttered, turning to his 
lunch. 

He had a strange lack of appetite. When 
again they were on their way, he had been 
silent for a long way. At last he had spoken. 

“Swen, this ain’t the MacKenzie.” 

“What is it then ?” Swen had stared at him 
in open-mouthed astonishment. 

“I don’t know for sure, but I ’ve got an 
idea. You know that boulder we ate our 
lunch on ?” 


DUE NORTH 


69 


“Sure/’ 

“Well, it ’s solid copper ; worth a fortune if 
only it was split up and brought to market, 
but here — hundreds of miles from a railroad 
— it ’s worthless ; just part of the scenery, 
that ’s all. The only river I ever heard of 
that had such deposits in its bed is the Copper- 
mine, which flows straight into the Arctic 
ocean.” 

“And is — is — are there,” Swen had licked 
his lips dryly, “are there any people living on 
this river?” 

“Might be a few Indians along it and 
Eskimo at the mouth ; that ’s all.” 

“Then we ’d better turn back.” Swen had 
drawn in his paddle. 

“It ’s too late for that. Our best chance 
is to shoot on down to the mouth and And 
the Eskimo. Mebby we can trade them out 
of a dog team when the snow gets a crust. 
Then we ’ll make our way back, but, anyway, 
that ’s where the game is, caribou, walrus, 
seal and the like, and that ’s where we must 
go.” 

Nothing more had been said till they had 


70 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


built a cheery camp fire for a brief rest; 
then Swen had drawn a picture from his pocket, 
and, by the flickering light, had showed it 
to his pal. 

“That ’s her,” he had whispered. “That ’s 
Freda.” 

Waste had found himself looking at a laugh- 
ing face wreathed in golden-brown hair. He 
had known it was golden-brown, because Swen 
had told him. 

I “That ’s her,” Swen had gone on. “I’m 
going to buy her a red dress. She always 
liked red.” 

“ Yes,” Waste had said. “ And she ought to 
have something that ’s kind of gold, like the 
sunset ; something to match her hair.” 

Swen had been struggling with the realiza- 
tion that they were facing a winter in the Arc- 
tic wilderness, far from any settled haunts of 
men. It had been too vast for him, and he 
had been dispelling dark despair by making 
plans for Freda, and Waste, understanding, 
had helped. 


CHAPTER V 


INDIANS 

The next night they had sighted a camp fire 
and had decided to drift by it in the shadows. 
Silently the kiak had glided downstream. As 
it had come nearer to the place where a fire 
fiashed and flared, the boys had seen a number 
of Indians seated about it, smoking their 
pipes in silence. Their red blankets had 
stood out in sharp contrast to the black 
spruce boughs and the white snow which lay 
beyond. Without a touch of the paddle, 
and with eyes and ears strained, the boys had 
drifted on. Now an Indian had risen and 
seemed to gaze out upon the water, and their 
hearts had beat fast. But, stretching lazily, 
the Indian had lifted some spruce branches 
and thrown them on the fire. Then Waste 
had given a little gasp and had driven his 
paddle fiercely into the water, and it had 


72 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


seemed inevitable that their shadows on the 
opposite bank must be seen. But no sign of 
knowledge of their presence had been made 
manifest, and soon they had been well in the 
shadows again. 

“Huh!” Waste had breathed. “That 
was a close one 1” 

. Then, because they were in the Indian’s 
hunting land and might come upon other 
wanderers, they had drifted on down the 
river. 

With the moonlight giving the edge of 
every ripple a line of silver, with the wind 
sighing in the spruce trees, they had drifted on 
and on. Now and then there had come a crash 
through the brush, and their hands gripped 
their rifles. Was it caribou or skulking Indians? 
For the most part they had not known. But 
once a splendid, antlered creature had stepped 
boldly out into the edge of an eddy. WTiat 
a wonderful shot! And they needed meat, 
too ! But they were too near the Indian en- 
campment to risk it. So they had drifted 
on. ] 

Swen had fallen asleep and Waste had been 


INDIANS 


73 


nodding, when, as if in a dream, he had heard 
a strange, rushing noise like the wind in the 
tree tops. Shaking himself into wakefulness, 
the boy had listened. It was not the wind; 
not a breath was stirring. Dipping in his 
paddle, he had shot the kiak toward shore. 
Then, realizing that the current had grown 
swifter, he had applied all his strength to 
the task. He had found himself whirling 
past overhanging willows and spruce at a 
rapid rate, while the rushing sound gradually 
took on the thunderous roar of a cataract. 

Then Swen had awakened. With their 
combined efforts they had reached the bank, 
and then, while Swen had dug his paddle into 
the madly rushing waters. Waste had seized 
an overhanging bough. There had come a 
terrible wrench to his arms. For a moment 
It had seemed that he would be dragged from 
his place, but gripping the tough branches 
with grim determination, he had at last seen 
the kiak swing inshore. Narrowly they had 
averted a crash, and a moment later had 
thrown themselves panting on the bank 
beside their kiak. 


74 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


‘‘Must be some wonderful rapids down 
there !” Waste had exclaimed. 

“Uh-huh!” Swen had grunted; “but I ’d 
rather see ’em from the bank than from a 
kiak.” 

Then dragging out their blankets, they had 
curled up beneath the spreading spruce boughs 
and slept. 

Waste had been the first to wake. As he 
sat up and stretched himself, there had come 
to his ears sounds of snapping and cracking 
which set his nerves tingling. Could it be 
that the Indians had seen and followed them ? 
Had they pulled their kiak ashore on the edge 
of another camp.^ Suddenly there had come 
a creaking groan and the sound of a tree crash- 
ing to earth. He had bounded to his feet, 
sure now that Indians were close at hand. 
Then, dropping on his hands and knees, he 
had crept toward the place from which the 
sound came. If there were Indians here, 
he must know, for their course must now be 
pursued on land to escape the rapids. 

Now he had crept slowly forward, and now 
he had paused to listen. The only sound 


INDIANS 


75 


which had disturbed the still air was a snap- 
ping, cracking sound, very faint and indis- 
tinct, with here and there a rustling thud as 
of some creature dropping to earth. Begin- 
ning to suspect what was happening, he had 
crept forward more rapidly. Then, after 
peering through the branches, he had burst 
forth into a loud laugh. The strange enemy 
who felled the trees of the forest was a colony 
of beavers. 

But instantly the boy had regretted his 
mirth. The sly creatures had disappeared. 
Their meat would have made a very fine 
breakfast. 

“Oh, well,’’ he had sighed, as he had re- 
joined his companion and told of this near- 
adventure, “I don’t know as we ought to use 
our rifies so close to the Indians, anyway.” 

“But, say!” he had exclaimed suddenly, 
“we can get ’em. We ’ll drive stakes before 
the entrance to their houses and then dig ’em 
out !” 

They got busy at once cutting slim willow 
stakes, long enough to be driven in the mud 
bottom of the little stream on which the beaver 


76 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


dams were built, and in half an hour they had 
had two fine, fat beavers stretched out on 
the bank. 

“Might as well get enough to last us two 
or three days,” Waste had said, pulling 
up the stakes and preparing to attack another 
house. 

In two hours they had obtained seven 
beavers and were broiling one over a small 
fire. 

“That settles the meat problem,” Waste 
had sighed, as they finished the meal. “ Now 
for the rapids.” 

The rapids in the Coppermine had proved 
to be both very dangerous and very numerous. 
Hardly would one be passed and the drift 
downstream begun than they would catch 
the roar of another. To add to their dis- 
comforts, the weather had become bitter 
cold. The stream had begun taking on a 
fringe of ice along its banks. This had made 
their journey doubly dangerous. Finally, 
one night, with the roar of a mighty cataract 
in their ears, they had fought the ice for two 
hours before making a landing. 


INDIANS 


77 


“That settles it/’ Waste had panted, as 
he finally had stretched himself out on shore. 
“ No more travel on the Coppermine. We ’ve 
got to make a sled and wait for snow.” 

As if in answer to their needs a heavy snow 
had fallen that night. Sleeping beneath the 
boughs of a tall spruce, which completely 
shed the snow, they had found themselves 
in an almost perfect snow house the next 
morning. 

They had traveled so far that all fear of 
Indians had left their minds. Building a 
roaring fire before a shelving bank, they had 
begun work on a sled, which would fit the 
rounding bottom of their kiak. 

[_ This work had lasted two days. At the 
end of this time they had become aware 
that they were short of meat again. With no 
beaver houses in sight, and all the small 
streams locked in ice, this meant a hunt 
through the forest for big game. They might 
easily find hare or ptarmigan, but their supply 
of ammunition would not permit of shooting 
such small animals. So, cacheing their kiak 
in a tree, to protect it from the foxes, they 


78 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


had taken their rifles and had gone tramping 
away through the timber. There was barren 
land two miles beyond the river. Here they 
could get an unrestricted view of the sur- 
rounding country and might reasonably hope 
to spy some caribou on their way south from 
their summer feeding ground. In this they 
had not been disappointed. But to stalk a 
caribou In this open country, where only 
narrow valleys offer hiding places, and where 
every breeze is an eager messenger to the keen- 
scented creatures, is a diflScult task, and one 
which consumes much time. When, at last, 
they were on their way back through the forest 
with burdens of meat on their backs, it was 
growing dusk. They were hardly in the 
forest when it had become quite dark. But 
this did not trouble them; they had no dif- 
ficulty in picking up the trail of the morn- 
ing. 

All at once, as they neared camp. Waste 
had stopped to listen. An unwonted sound 
had caught his ear. Was it the howl of a 
wolf or yelp of a dog? He could not tell. 
It did not come again, so they had pressed on. 


INDIANS 


79 


‘‘Hist!” He had stopped again and whis- 
pered, “Look !” at the same time pointing to 
where their camp was. 

A light had shone through the shadowy 
branches. 

“ Did n’t think our camp fire ’d last that 
long,” Swen had whispered. 

“Didn’t,” Waste had answered. “It ’s 
Indians or some one, and they ’ve taken our 
camp !” 

They had crept a little closer. There 
could be no doubt of it. There had been a 
roaring fire, and the passing of shadows before 
them had told them there were men about 
it. They had crept still closer to obtain a 
better view. And presently, fearing that 
they might be detected by a nosing dog, 
they had paused. 

And here they were. Waste shook himself 
from the review of events to a lively interest 
in things close at hand. Here was a catas- 
trophe, indeed. They were in an Arctic 
wilderness with food for a few days, ammuni- 
tion for a few days longer, and no blankets 
to protect them from the cold as they slept. 


80 SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 

“It ’s a wonder they didn’t trail us,” said 
Swen. 

“Knew they didn’t need to,” answered 
Waste. “Knew we ’d have to come back. 
That’d save them the trouble.” 

Creeping back over the trail for some dis- 
tance, they climbed into the spruce trees, 
whose interlocking boughs allowed them to 
travel in the air for a few rods. Then they 
dropped down among the needles. 

Waste cut off some strips of caribou meat 
and spread them on the crusted snow. 

“Freeze in a moment; then it won’t be 
bad eating,” he explained. 

He stretched himself on the needles and be- 
gan to plan. After a time he rose and, tell- 
ing Swen to wait there, disappeared. Shortly 
he returned. 

“They ’re Indians, all right,” he whispered. 
“Saw their blankets. Was scared that their 
dogs would spot me, but they did n’t.” 

“Now, I ’ll tell you,” he whispered, after 
munching frozen caribou meat in silence for 
some time, “we ’ve got to frighten ’em away.” 

Swen had visions of two boys frightening 


INDIANS 


81 


away a band of Indians who were weH supplied 
with rifles, but he said nothing. 

‘‘Pete McGuire, over at Nome, got lost 
over this way once and lived among the Little 
Sticks Indians for two years. They have a 
great and terrible bugaboo, called Ah-ha- 
took-sook. He ’s supposed to be a giant 
eighteen feet tall. But he is seen oftenest 
crawling through the forest on hands and 
knees, his face shining like the moon. If 
I could only, — ” Waste paused in thought. 
Then he gave forth a chuckle. 

“I might do it!” he whispered, as if to 
himself. “There ’s a good hard-packed snow- 
bank in that open spot over yonder, and 
I ’ve got my little pocket flashlight.” 

They crept over to the snowbank, and there 
Waste cut out a block of snow three feet 
square and one foot thick. Setting this on 
edge, he began to carve on one side a round 
hole some fourteen inches across. He worked 
carelessly at flrst. But Anally he took the 
very point of his knife, and scraping a little 
here, a little there, worked with the care of 
a sculptor. At last he turned the block 


82 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


around, so it would face away from the river 
bank, and told Swen to hold the flashlight 
so its light would just cover the hole. From 
a distance he studied the effect for a time, 
then returned to his work. This was repeated 
again and again. At last he heaved a sigh of 
satisfaction, and, holding the light, told Swen 
to go around and look. 

Swen uttered a grunt of surprise. Before 
him, glowing with light, burned a face. The 
nose shadow was just where it should be; 
the teeth were shown in a grin. 

“ If that don’t get ’em, we might as well give 
up,” smiled Waste, quite proud of his handiwork. 

Cutting two crotched branches from a tree, 
they made a sort of sled beneath the snow 
block, with the upper limb of the crotch 
holding the block in an upright position. 
Then, in the shadowy moonlight, they began 
creeping toward the now sleeping camp. 

When they had come within a hundred 
yards a dog barked. Lying flat behind their 
snow barrier they watched and listened. 
An Indian rubbed his eyes and grunted, then 
another and another. 


INDIANS 


83 


‘‘Now,” whispered Waste. Swen switched 
on the light, while Waste puckered his lips 
and uttered such a sound as Swen had not 
heard on land or sea. 

Instantly there came a piercing scream from 
the camp, and in another second all was in 
commotion. Startled screams echoed through 
the spruce trees, while up the white bank 
dark figures plunged to lose themselves in 
the forest, pausing only for a second’s glance 
at the terrible burning face, which continued 
to roar and chuckle at them. 

“Now,” whispered Waste, as he switched 
off the light, and, gripping his rifle, sprang 
forward. 

Once they reached the camp, it took but 
a moment’s glance to tell them that their 
kiak had been undisturbed. Their sled, too, 
was untouched. With a hasty glance to 
right and left, to make certain they were not 
being trapped, they crept forward. They 
dragged the kiak upon their sled and went 
racing away down the bank to the river’s 
brink. Here a narrow collar of ice fringed the 
river. Twenty feet wide in places, in others. 


84 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


where the current dashed strongly shoreward, 
scarcely five, it offered them a smooth road to 
travel. Treacherous it was, and often in- 
terrupted by rapids that dashed over tumbled 
rock piles, yet it was their only chance, for 
through the scrub forest ran no sled trails. 

So, little knowing the nature of the people 
who lived toward the river’s mouth, and little 
dreaming that only a half-day’s journey from 
them a boy, Soolook, slept, and in his sleep 
dreamed of meeting the great and terrible 
Kabluna — he of the single eye, the white 
forehead, the giant’s stature, and the black 
instrument of death that kills at a distance 
with a magic of great noises — little dreaming, 
too, how in many ways they resembled this 
fabled man — they of the white face and the 
rifle — they hastened on their way. 


CHAPTER VI 


SOOLOOK AND THE RAVEN FATHER 

A DULL brown spot moved on the surface 
of a darker brown rock. The rock lay on the 
slope of a hillside. Below lay a snowbank, 
and on it lay another dark brown object, 
which seemed at times to thrash about and 
scatter the snow. The object on the rock was 
an Eskimo boy, Soolook ; the one on the snow- 
bank was a great bull caribou. 

Soolook, on awaking from his sleep beneath 
the cliff, had not gone back to the trail which 
had crossed his path, — the trail of two men 
who wore strange footgear. He had suddenly 
taken notice of his own worn mukluks, 
also of his dog’s sore feet, and reason had told 
him that a journey homeward was wise. But 
perhaps more than that was the realization 
that he had already performed a feat that was 
still unsung, the killing of the Oo-ming-muck- 


86 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


suit ; there would be time enough for the other, 
that which was to be his greatest adventure, 
— his visit to the land of the Kabluna. 

So he had hurried homeward. At first he 
fed on the rich, red reindeer meat. When 
this was gone, he had shot three ptarmigan, 
and then an Arctic hare. A white fox, too, 
had fallen into his hands. WTien he was but 
half a day’s journey from the place where 
his tribe should be camped, he had come upon 
this lone bull caribou loitering in rich feeding 
grounds on his way south. With an eye to 
feeding his people, he had stalked him. 

For three days he had watched the animal 
paw up the snow to feed on lichens. Three 
days he had hoped the caribou would feed 
close enough to the rock to come within range 
of his long bow. And for three days he had 
been disappointed. But the Eskimo is a 
patient hunter ; so he lay still and waited. 

At last the buck rose and began to nose 
about in the moss for more white lichens. The 
boy followed him with greedy eye. He was 
fat from long feeding on bitter willow leaves 
and rich reindeer moss. What roasts his 



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THE RAVEN FATHER 


87 


haunches would make! What a parka his 
sleek coat ! What mittens the dark coverings 
of his legs ! Surely he was worth waiting for ! 

Closer and closer he came, sometimes cir- 
cling, sometimes pausing to lift his head and 
listen, but ever feeding closer to the brown 
rock where the silent figure lay. Now the 
boy could distinguish the separate prongs 
of his antlers ; now count the little forks one 
by one; now catch the bits of velvet which 
had been rubbed free by contact with willow 
shrubs. Still the boy lay motionless. He 
must not miss. He would be an honor to 
his family, a benefactor to his tribe, the old 
men would praise him, and the young men 
would honor him. No, he must not miss. 

But now the caribou seemed disturbed. 
He tossed his head and stamped a foot. 
Soolook became alarmed. Was he about t© 
lose his prey ? 

Measuring the distance with a practiced 
eye and stealthily rising to a half -sitting posi- 
tion, he fitted the arrow to the string and 
slowly, silently bent his bow. Now his 
arrow was in position, his string sang to the 


88 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


lightest touch ; now his eye shot a glance down 
the arrow till it rested on the brown side of the 
silent creature. Right there the arrow would 
enter his heart. 

But just at that instant there darted from 
the hillside a dark, speeding object, — an 
arrow, but not his. With a wild snort, the 
deer reared and plunged, then sank slowly to 
earth. 

Silently the boy released his string and 
placed his arrow in its quiver. Then he 
stretched out on the rock again to wait. 

“Oboogarat!” he murmured, as the other 
hunter ran forward to bend over the caribou. 

But what was this.^ The old shamin, for 
Oboogarat was the chief village witch doctor, 
was not drawing his knife to skin his prey; 
he did not even draw his arrow. He stooped 
and went through some strange motions, then, 
with a cunning glance which swept all the 
horizon, he turned and walked rapidly away. 

For a brief time the boy lay there, consider- 
ing. But the moment the shamin had dis- 
appeared, he sprang to his feet and hastened 
home to camp by another way. Before 


THE RAVEN FATHER 


89 


entering camp, he hid his trophies of the Oo- 
ming-muck-suit in a rocky ledge. 

He found the shamin the center of an 
admiring group. Men, women and children 
crowded about him, eagerly drinking in his 
words. As Soolook made his way toward 
him, he heard him announce that he was 
about to perform one of his most awesome 
feats of spirit-control. He would kill a cari- 
bou, though he was far from it. He had sum- 
moned his Indian Spirit and had given him 
an arrow. About the feather of this arrow he 
had tied a red leather cord. After he had 
finished the dance which was to weave the 
spell over the Indian Spirit, he should com- 
mand him to kill. Then they would all go 
and see for themselves how he had been 
obeyed. Indeed, they should all have a fine 
roast for their meal that day. 

Soolook was interested, for had he not 
heard of these wonderful feats And had 
he not longed to see one performed? For 
the moment, in his eagerness, he forgot his 
hate and distrust of the dark-faced shamin. 
Excitedly he watched the wild dance, caught 


90 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


each sound of drum beat and each weird 
‘‘I-I-um-ah-ah-ah” of the song. Eagerly he 
followed the throng that rushed along behind 
the shamin. 

But what could this mean.'^ They were 
going around the very hill, where, a few hours 
before, he had seen the shamin’s arrow kill 
a caribou. Yes, they were going to that 
very spot. Then, like fire that has smoul- 
dered long and at last burst into flame, a new 
anger exploded in his heart ; anger at a shamin 
who could be so low as to trick his people, 
to claim a power which he did not possess. 

He did not need to go quite to the place. 
He knew all too well the surprise of the 
people ; the loud shouts of praise ; the swollen 
strut of the shamin. So he lingered on the 
hillside until the people began to return 
joyfully, bearing their hunks of venison on 
their shoulders. 

As he wandered aimlessly, his foot caught 
on a dwarf spruce. This strange bush that 
hugs the tundra, creeping on the very earth — 
root, trunk and branches — makes a wonder- 
ful kindling. Reaching for his knife to cut 


THE RAVEN FATHER 


91 


it, he discovered that his knife was not in its 
scabbard. 

“Must have lost it as I lay on the rock,’’ 
he thought, and turned toward the higher 
point on the hill. 

How Oboogarat happened to pass that way 
the boy could not tell, but just as he reached 
the rock, to his consternation, he saw the 
shamin stoop and pick up the lost knife. At 
once the boy’s flushed face revealed the fact 
that he knew all. 

With a wolf -like snarl, the shamin took 
three steps forward. The boy stood defense- 
less before him. He could kill him with a 
thrust; yet the shamin paused, and a look 
of cunning overspread his face. He said 
nothing, but for a moment he stared at the 
boy. Then, throwing the knife upon the 
ground, he strode away. 

He had said nothing with his lips, but with 
his eyes he had said : ; 

“I will not kill you. It is not necessary; 
you will not tell. For, though you hate 
me, you also fear me. I am a powerful 
shamin. I can cast a black spell over your 


92 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


family, and they all will perish. Oh, no; 
you will not tell !” 

And in his heart the boy knew that he would 
not. His love for family was stronger than 
love for truth; at least, truth might wait a 
better time for its unfolding. But now there 
rose up in his heart a desire for some new 
power, some knowledge of spirits which would 
give him strength to face this crafty enemy. 
Oh ! If only he could know Raven Father ! 
He who had flown from the moon and created 
man and all living things. If he could but 
know him, how different all might be ! 

Already the long twilight had deepened 
into darkness. It was almost the season of 
perpetual night again. The next morning 
when Soolook awoke, he found his deerskins 
buried in snow, which was still drifting down 
among the black spruce boughs. The camp 
was in action ; a move to the coast had been 
announced. 

After doing his share of the packing and 
loading, the boy stole away for a long fare- 
well stroll into the forest. He had come to 


THE RAVEN FATHER 


93 


love the needle-carpeted wilderness. The si- 
lent shadows had become a part of his life. 
But he knew as well as any that life in the 
forest with the caribou and wild fowl gone 
south was impossible. So he wandered among 
the trees for a farewell look and a last long 
listen. 

As he sauntered on and on, he penetrated 
deeper into the forest than ever before and 
came at last to a broad expanse of water. 
This, he told himself, was Great Bear Lake, 
and his heart thumped wildly at thought of it. 
For was it not known that on the other shore, 
hundreds of miles away, there live some mem- 
bers of a strange and terrible tribe, the Kab- 
luna? What wonder then that he strained 
his eyes, as though to send his gaze hundreds 
of miles and see these unusual people at their 
work? 

He did not hunt that day. He dreamed, 
and mingled with the dream was fear and a 
charm, such as the bird must feel who looks 
into the eye of a serpent. Would he ever 
meet the terrible Kabluna, and if he did would 
he perish ? 


94 SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 

And so he turned back into the forest. He 
had gone but a little way when he came upon 
something very curious. It was a pile of 
rocks three times the length of a harpoon 
shaft and rearing right up toward the sky. 
It was slender, not broader than the length of 
an arrow. It was held together by a peculiar 
hard mud and seemed hollow, for there was 
an opening at the base. What could it be, 
and who had made it.^^ He had often come 
upon stone houses built by the spirits many 
years before and never lived in by the Eskimo, 
but these were low and round, like the snow 
houses of his people. 

As he scuflFed his foot in the soft snow a black 
object rolled out. He examined it curiously. 
It was charcoal. He began kicking about, 
here and there. Everywhere for a broad space 
there was charcoal. Slowly it dawned upon 
him that here had once been the mammoth 
dwelling place of the Kabluna. And, once 
he realized this, he wished to run away. Then 
he laughed at his fear, for the charcoal told 
him the house had been burned many years 
before. 


THE RAVEN FATHER 95 

But this tall pile of stone ? What could it 
be? 

“Perhaps it was an entrance for spirits that 
come from the moon,” he mused. 

Then he threw himself flat on his stomach 
to peer up to the sky. But at that instant 
something happened which caused him to 
glide back swiftly. There came a strange 
scratching from within the pile, and out walked 
a great raven. 

Soolook’s eyes bulged. He was sure it 
was the largest raven he had ever seen, and 
his beak was blacker than any old ivory he 
had ever dug from the sand. To emphasize 
the blackness of his plumage one white feather 
was half hidden away in his right wing. 

The raven stared at the boy, making 
strange guttural sounds in his throat. 

To hide his confusion the boy stared up 
at the towering pile of stones. 

“Nagoovaruk! Ca?” (Very good; is it 
not so?) The voice seemed to come from 
within his own body, and as he stood there 
trembling, it was repeated, “Nagoovaruk! 
Ca?” 


96 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


He was so frightened he did not dare stir 
from the spot. But, by standing still, he 
found his courage come creeping back. 

“Nagoovaruk! Ca?” It came again. 
This time the voice seemed to be at his feet. 
His gaze dropped to the bird and seemed glued 
there. And, yes, — the raven opened his 
mouth, and from his black throat there 
rattled : 

‘‘ Nagoovaruk ! Ca ? ” 

Fascinated, the boy dropped to his old posi- 
tion and stared smilingly at the raven. 

At once the bird began to talk rapidly, 
but not one word did the boy understand. 
The language was strange to him. Finally 
the raven stopped and stared at him. Then, 
closing one eye, he said slowly : 

“ Azeezruk ! Ca ? (Very bad, is it not so ?) 

To which the boy answered, “ Eh-eh, Azeez- 
ruk.” (Yes, very bad.) 

For hours the boy lay in the snow, listen- 
ing to the prattle of the raven, but hearing 
in his own tongue only the same two expres- 
sions : Azeezruk ! Ca ? ” and “ Nagoovaruk ! 
Ca?” 


THE RAVEN FATHER 


97 


‘^And, after all,” he told himself, as he 
rose stiffly, realizing that he must hurry along 
after his tribe, ‘‘if one but knows what is 
good and what is bad, why should he speak 
of other things?” 

As he hastened away from the enchanted 
spot, he was both glad and sorry that the tribe 
was leaving the forest; glad because there 
would now be no danger of Oboogarat making 
this discovery which he had made, and sorry 
because it might well be that he would never 
again speak to the Raven Father. But this 
one thing was true; he had spoken to him, 
and had learned many things from him that 
were both good and bad. Surely he need 
never fear Oboogarat with his many spirits 
again. 

And when eventually he found himself in 
the tribal circle, he returned the sour look 
of the old shamin with one of such defiance 
that Oboogarat dropped a fat leg of duck into 
the fiaming fire and lost that part of his meal, 

Soolook paused, listened, then dropped on 
his knees behind an up-ended ice boulder. 


98 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


Had he seen a shadow dart across his path? 
His heart beat loudly. 

All about him was night, perpetual night; 
the long night of the Arctic. And about him, 
too, lay ice and snow, the ice and snow of the 
ocean’s blanket. Long now his tribe had been 
living on the ocean’s ice. Building a snow 
village here and hunting until the seals became 
scarce, then moving to another spot and 
building a new village, they were like phantom 
fairies in their wandering. 

Soolook had been sent three times to bring 
dried caribou meat from the forest, and three 
times he had talked to the Raven Father. 
He had even ventured to offer the bird some 
of his dried meat. This he had eaten with 
many a “Nagoovaruk! Ca?” And on the 
third journey he had come hopping and 
flapping into camp with the boy. This had 
been a proud day in the boy’s life, for the 
people had cried ; 

“ See ! Soolook is a friend of the Raven 
Father! Surely he is a powerful shamin!” 

But Oboogarat had remained in the shad- 
ows, a dark and menacing enemy. 


THE RAVEN FATHER 


99 


From village to village the Raven Father 
had traveled with Soolook, and everywhere 
they had found fish and seal in abundance. 
Never had there been such a year for his 
Eskimo people. 

But now, some terrible calamity had oc- 
curred. From their last camp to the one 
they now had newly built, Raven Father 
had not followed. What could have hap- 
pened ? Had he become displeased, and 
for this reason returned to the moon ? If so, 
then surely famine would follow. Soolook 
listened for a moment, then he hastened on 
his way. 

At last he came in sight of the many white- 
domed snow houses which had lately been the 
homes of his people. And as he neared them, 
his heart gave a great leap of joy, for he caught 
the voice of the Raven Father : 

Azeezruk ! Ca ? Azeezruk ! Ca ?” he was 
screaming. 

Guided by the sound, the boy came to a 
snow house, and to his horror found that its 
entrance had been blocked with snow. The 
Raven Father was a prisoner. What rascal 


100 SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 

could have done this? None would dare it 
save Oboogarat. 

He kicked the snow away and out walked 
the Raven Father, croaking, “Nagoovaruk! 
Ca?” But at once the bird seemed dis- 
turbed, and, ruflBing his feathers, shrieked, 
“Azeezruk! Ca?” 

The boy glanced behind him, then dropped 
flat on the ice. He was not a second too soon, 
for an arrow, flashing over his head, crashed 
against the snow house. 

Knowing now that he must fight, the boy 
dashed at the shamin, who had shot the arrow, 
and bore him to the ice. It seemed an unequal 
battle, for the shamin was old and strong. 
Over and over they rolled, gripping and strug- 
gling, deaf to the wild screams of the raven. 
Now one was on top, and now the other. But 
moment by moment the boy found his strength 
leaving him. His breath came in short 
gasps. It seemed as if he could struggle no 
longer. Suddenly, with a deft turn, the sha- 
min threw him on his back, and, pouncing 
upon him, brandished his copper-bladed knife 
above him. Then he paused, not in pity, 





ChaHUJ OOLl. 


Over and over they rolled, gripping and struggling, deaf to the 
wild screams of the raven. Page 100. 




THE RAVEN FATHER 


101 


but in joy ; as a cat teases his victim, so he 
would prolong the life of the helpless boy. 

But at that instant, there came to the boy’s 
reeling senses a cry, shrill and strong; 

"‘Azeezruk! Ca? Azeezruk! Ca?” 

It was the raven. For a second the sha- 
min’s cheek blanched, and his hand trembled. 
This was the boy’s opportunity. With one 
wild, wrenching convulsion, he threw his 
adversary in air. The knife went clattering 
against an ice pile, and the boy sat pinning 
the shamin’s hands to the ice. 

The enemy now was wholly within Soolook’s 
power. He might kill him if he would. But 
to kill a man ! Hot anger surged in his veins. 
The man did not deserve to live, but he, — 
could he kill a man ? And as his blood cooled, 
he saw the long line of battles which must 
follow, for, according to the law of the Eskimo, 
a life must be given for a life. No, he could 
not bring this upon his people. Then, smiling 
a grim smile, he secured the shamin’s knife, 
and rising, bade him go. For a long time the 
boy meditated there in silence, then he 
arose, and with the Raven Father flapping and 


102 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


croaking beside him, started on the journey 
back to his tribe. 

The long tramp to the deserted village 
and the subsequent battle with the shamin 
had tired him more than he knew. He had 
not made half the distance to the present 
home of his tribe when he crept into a sort of 
natural house of ice and sat down with droop- 
ing head to sleep. For a long time he heard 
the croaking ‘‘Azeezruk ! Ca?” of the raven. 
But at last these sounds appeared to grow 
fainter and fainter. 

How long he slept he could not tell. When 
he awoke he listened for the familiar voice 
of Raven Father. Not hearing it, he sprang 
to his feet and, racing out upon a broad ice 
pan, began to call. His calls brought no 
answer. What could have happened ? Had 
the wary shamin again spirited the Raven 
Father away? Or had he, Soolook, done 
something to displease the wise old bird, and 
had he flown away to other lands ? 

Whatever might be the solution, Soolook 
found himself very lonely, and resolved in 
his inmost self that if the Raven Father did 


THE RAVEN FATHER 


103 


not appear within the next three days, he 
would not only go in search of him in the scrub 
forest, but in case he failed in his search, he 
would attempt a journey to the Land of the 
Kabluna. 


CHAPTER VII 


TRAPPED 

For three days Soolook sat glooming by the 
seal-oil lamp or went roaming over the ice, 
hunting little for seal but listening long for 
the croaking voice of his friend, Raven Father. 

Finally, when he could stand it no longer, 
he took his bow and arrows, and with some 
dried meat slung over his back in a pook- 
sack, went marching away toward the forest. 
Many hunters told him he would not find 
caribou at this time of the year, but he 
cared little for that. He was sure there were 
snowshoe rabbits hidden in the bushes, and 
ptarmigan eating berries on the hillsides, 
so what had he to fear ? 

In time he reached the for<est. It was win- 
ter, and such a cold winter he had never seen. 
When he removed his deerskin mittens his 
hands seemed to crinkle up on the outside. 


TRAPPED 


105 


and he could not cover them too quickly. 
As he passed through the willow bushes the 
twigs, which were so elastic and tough in 
summer, snapped from the trunks like icicles. 
It was still, too. When he entered the forest 
not a breath of air stirred; not a dead leaf 
waved on the trees. Looking up, he saw the 
steam from his own breath streaming sky- 
ward above the tree tops. He paused to 
listen. A snow bunting flittered from a bush 
and seemed to make the noise of a ptarmigan. 
Far away, indistinct, he seemed to hear some- 
thing walking. Could it be a caribou? For 
a long time he stood there, but did not hear 
it again. As he hurried on, the scraping, 
creaking sound of his own footsteps drowned 
all other noises. He had traveled some dis- 
tance when he again paused to listen. This 
time the forest seemed to echo to the crash 
and snap of traveling caribou. 

“Must have wakened them from sleep,” 
the boy whispered to himself. 

With a wildly beating heart he stood there 
trying to peer into the shadowy moonlight. 
Once a brown streak crossed his line of vision. 


106 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


It was a caribou, but far away. But by this 
he learned their line of travel. If he were to 
station himself on the point of yonder hill, 
he might get one as it passed. He would 
never be able to reach them by stalking; 
his footsteps sounded too loudly in this vast 
stillness. 

He was about to go on toward the point, 
when in the midst of the rattling crash of 
caribou travel there came a different noise. 
He felt sure it was like the sound of his own 
footsteps. Who could it be? Had the old 
witch doctor followed him into the forest? 
Was some strange tribe hunting here? 

He listened, but the sound was not repeated. 
At last he reassured himself with the thought 
that he may have imagined it; or that, at 
the worst, he had heard a wolf stalking the 
caribou. Having caught a glimpse of a gray 
streak among the spruce trees, he felt sure 
that this last supposition was correct. 

He began moving stealthily forward till he 
was near the point. In his path lay two tree 
trunks which had fallen; the upper one was 
old, half -rotted away. They were the length 


TRAPPED 


107 


of an arrow apart. He would slide between 
them, and then he would be at his vantage 
point. He was nearly over, when there came 
a snap, a crash, and a sharp pain in his right 
leg. The upper trunk had fallen. His leg 
was pinned beneath it; he was trapped in a 
deadfall. 

He tried to lift the log, but strain as he 
would, he could not budge it. There was 
nothing in reach which he could use as a pry. 
His leg was already growing numb. He tried 
to think how long it would be till his leg would 
be frozen. If worst came to worst, he told 
himself, he could cut it off with his copper- 
bladed knife and free himself ; it would not 
hurt. But of what use was a one-legged 
hunter ? He might as well be dead. 

Then he thought of the strange footsteps. 
He felt certain that some human being had 
set this deadfall. Whoever he was, he must 
trust him; there was no other way. 

In a moment the silent forest was echoing 
with his cry for help. 

There came an answer, and then the whole 
forest seemed to burst into a terrible roar. It 


108 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


was like the great noise that comes with 
the rain in summer, but ten times more 
terrible. 

“Kabluna!” the boy murmured. ‘‘They 
kill with a magic of great noises.” 

For a long time he could not call again, so 
great was his fear of the Kabluna, but at 
last he dampened his dry tongue with snow and 
shouted as loudly as he could. 

Soon a tall man, strangely dressed, came 
crashing through the trees. In an instant he 
applied a pry to the deadfall, and the boy was 
free. Then stripping off the skin-boot, the 
stranger began chafing the lad’s foot with his 
own bare hands. Finally he replaced the 
boot, and without a word he put his arm 
across the boy’s shoulder and half-carried 
him to where a light shone from a strange 
dwelling made of logs and sod. 

Many strange things were inside the cabin. 
The boy’s eyes saw them all. But as the 
heat entered his body, and the man rubbed 
his leg with strange-smelling liquid, pain 
began to shoot through and through him, 
and with the pain came the desire to sleep ; 


TRAPPED 


109 


so, very soon, he was buried beneath wolf 
skins fast asleep. 

After many hours he awoke to find that his 
leg no longer pained him, but when he at- 
tempted to walk, he gave it up with a cry of 
anguish. He would not be able to walk for 
many days. 

The stranger did not speak his language, 
but told him things by signs. There were 
many queer things about the cabin, and al- 
most every action of his host was a mystery 
to the boy. But the man was a wise fellow. 
He saw that the boy was a close observer and 
allowed him to unravel the mysteries of coffee- 
pot, sour-dough pancakes, sheet-iron stove, 
kerosene lamp, and a hundred other things 
in his own way. 

One day, as the boy limped about the cabin, 
something dropped from his sleeve. The 
stranger wished to know what it was. Soo- 
look, untying the little leather sack, showed 
him the two round balls and indicated that 
it was a charm taken from the body of a wild 
duck. 

The stranger smiled, but he did not say by 


110 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


signs, “This is no charm ; it is only two lead 
shot, which the white man put in the duck’s 
body with his powerful gun.” 

After that, Soolook saw ptarmigan killed 
with a shotgun, and when the shot fell from 
the meat, as he ate, he began to think. He 
looked at a pile of shot in a box, then at the 
one taken from the ptarmigan; then again 
at his charm. After that he threw his charm 
into the fire, and the stranger smiled again. 
Each day some new mystery was solved. 

Then one day the stranger said, by signs and 
pictures in the snow : 

“Some time you may take me to your 
people. You will tell them all the things you 
have seen. You will tell them that I have 
come to help them ; to explain many mys- 
teries for them. You will be a great help to 
your people, for I will give them the great 
noise-maker for copper-pointed spears and 
stone pots. I will teach them to save the 
skins of foxes, mink, and beaver, and for these 
I will give them knives and needles, and all 
the noise-makers they need for hunting cari- 
bou, walrus and seal.” 


TRAPPED 


111 


Then Soolook’s heart bounded with joy. 
‘‘A great help to his people Was not that 
his most cherished desire ? 

But the stranger was too busy at that time, 
tending his own traps and deadfalls, to make 
the journey over land and ice, so when Soo- 
look’s leg was strong again, he took his lance, 
his bow and arrow, and a new knife with a 
blade as white and as keen as new-formed ice 
on the river, and started out toward the home 
of his people. The stranger had offered him 
a dog team, but Soolook had refused to take 
it. 

Two questions puzzled him : Where was the 
Raven Father ? Often for hours he had 
sought him in vain in the forest. And now 
he was returning without him. 

Then there was the question regarding the 
stranger. Was he the long-talked-of Kab- 
luna.^ His face, to be true, was white; but 
he had two eyes and not one. Then, too, he 
killed with a magic of great noises, but he 
was scarcely a hand taller than Soolook him- 
self. Long he had pondered over this ques- 
tion. Often he had wished to ask many ques- 


112 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


lions of the stranger, but knew no language 
in which to ask them. Now, as he journeyed 
homeward, he concluded that this was not the 
Kabluna, but was a member of some far in- 
ferior race who, by some trick of magic, had 
secured certain secrets of the Kabluna, and 
foremost among these was the art of killing 
by a magic of great noises. 

On his journey to the village, he remembered 
the hiding place of the horns of the Oo-ming- 
muck-suit, and passing that way brought 
them with him to his tribe. Often, in the 
long evenings, he had told the story of his 
fight with this terrible beast, but many had 
doubted. Now he had the proof, and with 
the white-bladed knife flashing in his hand, 
he told new and strange tales of his visit to a 
man who, though not the Kabluna, had yet 
learned many of that great one’s secrets. 

With this his fame grew, and though his 
power as a shamin was doubted by many, 
since Raven Father had left him, still he was 
counted a valiant hunter and an adventurer 
of no mean standing. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE TALKING RAVEN 

It was only a few hours after Soolook had 
left the lone tfapper’s cabin when two men 
came dragging themselves toward that place. 
Twice the younger of the two fell and lay 
prone upon the snow. Twice his companion 
stooped and lifted him to his feet ; then they 
staggered onward. They carried no sleeping- 
bags, drew no sled behind them, no rifles were 
slung on their shoulders. All these things 
had been abandoned long ago. Their parkas 
of deerskin and trousers of sealskin were 
patched all over with pieces of dried rabbit 
skin. A full beard covered the face of the older 
man ; a sparse stubble made the younger one’s 
face ugly. Their hair had grown long. Their 
fingers, inside ragged mittens, were raw and 
bleeding from many frostbites. 

The younger man addressed his companion 


114 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


as Swen; the older, in reply, named the 
younger “Waste/’ 

And so they proved to be the very two whose 
tracks months before Soolook had contem- 
plated following. Now, by only a few hours, 
he had missed them again. And they, too, had 
long ago back-tracked him to the place of his 
strange kill, in the hopes of finding his home. 
They had found instead the bones of wolves 
and a musk ox eaten clean by the foxes and 
half -buried by the drifting snow. They had 
found, also, a broken arrow shaft, pointed with 
copper. They had wondered at this, and had 
decided that, if opportunity offered, they 
would visit these people. 

A blizzard had obliterated the last sign of 
Soolook’s trail before they could return to 
the place where they had first found it. So 
they had started on an aimless wandering 
which, in the nick of time, had brought them 
to the door of a friendly stranger. 

By MacDonald, this trapper, who had be- 
come Soolook’s friend, their journey was 
welcomed. Having made his way Far North 
for many winters, he had learned wisdom 


THE TALKING RAVEN 


115 


through experience. Equipped with large 
quantities of ammunition, a number of dogs, 
a great number of traps and little food, 
he lived off the meat of the land, and, since he 
still had rifles and cartridges, there was no 
reason why these strangers should not live 
with him and add many a furry trophy to 
his treasure store before the spring break-up. 

The three men were soon on the best of 
terms, and the strangers, when their hands had 
healed, and they had been provided with new 
skin clothing, ranged far through the forest 
in search of white wolf and caribou. 

One day a raven came fluttering into camp 
and began pecking at the meat thrown out 
for the dogs. Now a raven is no uncommon 
sight in the snowy wilderness, but this was no 
ordinary raven. 

“That ’s the queerest raven I ever saw!’’ 
exclaimed the trapper one day, noticing him 
as he hopped down from a tree and began 
quarreling with the dogs over their daily 
dinner. “He ’s got such a strong way of 
squawking. You ’d almost think he was 
swearing at the dogs.” 


116 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


“He is,” grinned Swen. “Coming as near 
to it as he can in the language he knows.” 

“Yes, I suppose so. Crow language, you 
mean.” , 

“No, Eskimo.” 

“You don’t mean to say?” Macdonald, 
the trapper, stood with mouth open, staring. 

“Sure,” grinned Swen. “Listen! What 
he’s saying is ‘Azeezruk. Ca?’ which, in 
good Eskimo, means, ‘Very bad. Is it not 
so ? ’ And you can make it as much stronger 
as suits your taste. Probably somebody ’s 
tamed him and split his tongue.” 

Macdonald shook his head and walked 
away. But from that day Waste Warren 
and Swen Petersen and the talking raven 
became fast friends. Many a choice morsel 
did Waste save for the strange wonder. As 
for the raven, he reciprocated by perching 
himself on the boy’s shoulder, or on the rafter 
above his bunk, and repeating over and 
over again, “ Azeezruk ! Ca ? Nagoovaruk ! 
Ca?” And there came a time when this 
little speech of his was a great blessing to 
the boy. 


THE TALKING RAVEN 


117 


One day a strange-looking person drove 
into camp. He had but two dogs hitched to 
his sled; his clothes were in rags; his face 
was gaunt with hunger. 

‘‘Been huntin’ gold and found it ! ” he ex- 
claimed, as he dropped a heavy sack on the 
floor and asked for food and shelter. 

It was plain from the first that Macdonald 
did not like him, but as he expressed it, 
“One white man can’t turn another out,” so 
he stayed. And before he had been there a 
week it became quite evident that he was rest- 
less; he seemed haunted by some unnamed 
fear. Once he was standing with his back 
to the dogs, when the raven hopped down and 
began his “Azeezruk! Ca.^” He jumped 
and turned about, exclaiming, “What was 
that ? ” 

At other times he would be standing quite 
by himself, when he would suddenly wheel 
about, as if expecting to see some one sneak- 
ing up from behind. Waste shared Mac- 
donald’s dislike for the man, who called him- 
self Elliot. But mingled with his feeling of 
dislike was one of pity. He concluded that 


118 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


the man was the victim of his ceaseless 
wanderings alone, and that he would recover 
his mental balance if he stayed with people 
long enough. 

“ Where ’d you find your gold ? ” he ventured 
to inquire of the wanderer one day. 

‘‘Headwaters of the MacKenzie,” the other 
mumbled. 

“Up one of the branches?’^ 

“Yes, Hare Indian River.” 

“Far up?” 

“Yes.” 

“One of the forks? Which one? What 
was it like ?” 

Too late. Waste saw that he had showed 
too much interest, for the man closed up like 
a clam. 

“Probably ’fraid I ’d jump his claim,” 
Waste told himself, but in his innermost 
soul he was sure this was not the only reason, 
and this conviction made him strangely rest- 
less. 

From Macdonald, Waste learned the story 
of Soolook’s stay in the cabin. At once he 
was eager to visit the boy’s people. When 


THE TALKING RAVEN 


119 


he decided to take a sled-trip around the lake 
and across the barren lands to the Eskimo 
villages, which were supposed to be on the 
shores of the Arctic, he was easily persuaded 
to take Elliot with him. 

‘‘You won’t take that crow along, will 
you?” the man asked the day before they 
started. 

“ Guess we ’ll leave that to him,” smiled 
Waste. “If he chooses to come along, we 
can’t well stop him, as long as he furnishes 
his own transportation.” 

“I don’t like birds that talk,” grumbled 
Elliot. 

, Waste thought little of this. “Just one 
of his strange notions,” he said to Macdonald, 
as he spoke of it later. 

After a long sleep the two swung out into 
the trail. They had seven dogs. The trail 
was hard-packed, and the temperature was 
ideal. It was going to be a great trip. It 
was true that the Indians had told Macdonald 
that the Eskimo of this very Far Northland 
were bloodthirsty and cruel, but one hears 
all sorts of tales from the Indians. Macdonald 


120 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


had said he thought they were much the same 
as other natives. He had never made a trip 
to that shore, but this was because they were 
supposed to have nothing very valuable to 
trade. 

After sixteen hours of travel, with the moon 
shining down upon them, and the Big Dipper 
swinging about the North Star, they camped 
in the lee of a cut-bank and prepared to cook 
dinner. Waste had gone down to the edge 
of a small stream to chip out ice for melting, 
when he heard Elliot swearing loudly. He 
expected to find that the tent had blown over 
or a dog had run away with the bacon ; but 
instead, when he returned, he found the talk- 
ing raven sitting at the top of the cut-bank 
squawking, “Azeezruk! Ca?” while the 
miner continued to swear. 

“What ’d he do?” grinned Waste. 

“Nothin’. But there ’s no luck with a 
bird like that trailin’ you ! ” And Elliot began 
to swear again. 

Supper began to take the edge from his 
anger, and presently they stretched out in their 
sleeping-bags, and Waste was soon fast asleep. 


THE TALKING RAVEN 


ni 


He was awakened later by some movement 
in the tent. Opening his eyes slowly, he saw 
Elliot stealing upon the raven, who had 
stalked into the tent to sleep. His hand was 
nearly upon him when, with a squawk, and an 
“Azeezruk!” the bird bounded away. With 
wild rage in his eye, the man seized a knife 
and slashed at the raven. At that instant 
the boy’s hand shot out and gripped the man’s 
wrist. ^ 

‘‘Let me go — you,” roared Elliot, strug- 
gling to free himself. “Let me go; I ’m 
going to kill him. If you don’t let me go, 
I’ll kill you!” 

I Instantly the boy realized that he was enter- 
ing a life-and-death struggle with no witness 
save the raven and the glimmering moon. 

> He had only half struggled from his sleeping- 
bag when the man was upon him. Over and 
over they rolled. Out of the tent, over the 
snow, down the bank they tumbled. The boy 

I was free from his sleeping-bag now, but the 
{ .. miner had a freed right hand. Brandish- 
ing the knife, he fell upon the boy, but his 
knuckles received a sharp knock, and the 


122 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


knife rattled to the snow. Then they were at 
it again. Panting, struggling, with torn gar- 
ments and purple faces, they waged stubborn 
battle. But the clean living of the boy pre- 
vailed, and at last he sat upon the other’s 
chest and had his arms pinned to the snow. 

He remained like that until the other ceased 
his heavy breathing and his livid face turned 
pale. Then, securing the knife, he arose. 

It was a very humble apology the man made 
as he thanked the boy for sparing his life, 
but there lurked something in his eye which 
Waste did not like. He slept no more that 
night, and when morning came was unde- 
cided whether to send the man back alone, 
go back with him, or trust him to go on into 
the great unknown. He finally decided upon 
the last course. And again they turned 
toward the coast of the Arctic. 

After that Waste slept with all their 
weapons by his side, and his dog-leader — 
half -wolf, half -bloodhound — close to him. 
But the criminal, if criminal he were, seemed to 
have been conquered, for he did his work well, 
never grumbled over the hard trail, and paid 


THE TALKING RAVEN 


123 


no further attention to the raven. At times 
he dropped far behind the sled, but always 
returned when it was time to eat. And so 
they traveled until, crossing a series of low- 
rolling hills and then a broad, flat tundra, 
they came to the ice of the ocean. 

And now, as he gazed away across the white 
expanse, where giant cakes formed planes 
between jagged mountains of broken splinters 
of ice, the boy saw in the distance a dark spot 
which seemed an island. But this was no 
island, he knew, for had it been the land would 
have been white with snow. No, it was an 
Eskimo village. The dome-shaped houses 
of snow were white, it was true, but the 
harpoons, sleds and skins, hung out to dry, 
were black. He was approaching a village 
of these unknown people. And just then he 
felt a strong desire to turn back. 

For a moment he paused. Elliot was far 
behind at that instant. Then his sled shot 
down the bank and he was away. If Elliot 
were the most loyal of companions, he could be 
no aid against a whole village. It was better, 
probably, that they approach singly. 


124 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


But surely this wilderness of ice piles, with 
its purple shadows and its eternal silence, was 
ghostly. To bring the thing to a finish 
he pushed on rapidly. He had not nearly 
reached the village when he became conscious 
of being followed. And gradually, with a 
creepy feeling about his spine, he realized 
that he was being surrounded by dark figures, 
whose long, copper-pointed lances and har- 
poons gleamed in the moonlight. He had 
heard how these people killed a polar bear. 
Surrounding him they threw harpoons into 
him until a dozen skin ropes were fastened to 
him by a copper point buried in his tough 
skin. Then, like men at a tug-of-war, they 
held him from going this way or that, while 
a companion rushed in and finished him 
with a lance thrust through his heart. This 
was not a comforting thought. 

But he pushed on with the dark figures ap- 
pearing and disappearing, coming closer, be- 
coming more numerous. And now he could 
catch the note of a song, or incantation, they 
were humming, ‘T-I-um-ya-ya-ya.” This was 
most terrible of all. Waste wished himself 


THE TALKING RAVEN 


125 


back in the snug quarters of the trapper’s 
cabin. But that was all past. Well, then, 
he would take a stand. 

This he did in the center of a broad ice pan. 
At first the dark figures darted from ice pile 
to ice pile, still humming their ‘T-I-um-ya- 
ya” ; but at last, to a man, they stepped out 
upon the ice cake and advanced slowly in a 
circle. There were scores of them. If a 
fight followed, the boy would stand no show. 

Standing by his sled, with his dogs whining 
at the mysterious singing, he waited. Now 
he could catch the glare of the wicked-looking 
lances more plainly, now catch the gleam of an 
eye, now hear the shuffle of their feet, as the 
song ceased for an instant. It seemed his 
nerves would break, but still he stood there. 

Then, unexpectedly from the direction in 
which he had come, there came a cry. It was 
not Elliot who had uttered that cry, yet it 
was a cry of agony. Something was happen- 
ing back there, for there came the mingled 
roar of voices and other sounds of a struggle. 
The humming of the natives took on a high 
pitch, — a weird, wild, shrill wail. Then, 


126 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOYJ 


all at once, there was silence, — deathlike 
silence. The struggle at a distance had 
ceased; the song had ended. Not a foot 
stirred, not a lance rattled. Then in the 
very midst of it there came the rustle of wings, 
followed by a hoarse, croaking voice ; 

‘‘Azeezruk! Ca?’' 

It was the talking raven ! With a clumsy 
flap, he lighted on the boy’s shoulder. 

And then, as if by magic, all was changed. 
Natives threw their harpoons and lances 
clattering to the ice, and with hands raised 
over their heads advanced, shouting in their 
native tongue : 

‘‘See! We are friendly! We have no 
weapons ! We will do you no harm ! ” 

But once they had shouted this, they began 
again their humming. 

What could it all mean? The boy stood 
petrified by this sudden change. 

A native approached with something in 
his hand. He was humming loudly. He 
handed to the boy a small bit of whale blub- 
ber. Thinking this part of a ceremony. 
Waste put it in his mouth and swallowed it. 


THE TALKING RAVEN 


U7 

Instantly there was an end to the song and 
a rush forward with friendly outstretched 
hands. 

“Now we know you are no spirit! No! 
You have eaten whale blubber! You are 
like ourselves ! You are no spirit, and we 
do not fear you. We are friendly ! We will 
treat you well.’’ 

But when the raven croaked again, “Azeez- 
ruk ! Ca ? ” they all stepped back and 
whispered in awed tones. Gradually Waste 
was coming to understand that his friend, the 
raven, had much to do with his deliverance. 
“Must be some superstition about him,” 
he thought, as he was led away to the village. 

But where was Elliot? He asked about 
him. At first, no one would admit any knowl- 
edge of him. At last one young fellow, braver 
than his companions, stepped out and said : 

“Azeezruk! Muckie!” Waste understood 
nothing of this, but by signs they implied 
that the words meant, “Bad one. He is 
dead!” 

Dead ! Then the strange fellow had met 
his death here on the ocean’s ice. After a 


128 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


moment’s reflection, the boy was not surprised. 
Elliot could never stand the strain of such an 
ordeal as he had just gone through. It was 
probable that he had attacked one of the na- 
tives and had been killed by his comrades. 
Though he questioned many of the natives, 
he learned no more of the details regarding 
the killing. One thing occurred which assured 
him that the man was dead. After he had 
eaten and slept, and eaten again, a native 
brought him a moose-hide sack, which was 
very heavy. 

‘‘ Here is something that does n’t belong to 
us,” the man told him by signs. “And, 
anyway, I don’t want it. My friends don’t 
want it. We don ’t think it ’s any good. You 
can have it, if you think it is any good.” 

It was Elliot’s sack of gold, worth two or 
three thousand dollars. Waste packed it 
on his sled and left it there, feeling quite sure 
that no natives would steal that which he 
and his friends thought was “no good.” 

It was Soolook’s tribe that Waste Warren 
had come upon. It was Soolook himself 
who told of the death of Elliot. Perhaps it 


THE TALKING RAVEN 


129 


was the very fact of his boldness that made 
Waste fear the Eskimo boy. But to that was 
added the Eskimo boy’s seemingly unnatural 
interest Mn the talking raven. He hardly 
wished to allow the raven out of his sight. 
After Waste had been given a snow house of 
his own, he would often be awakened from a 
sound sleep to find Soolook staring in at the 
narrow half -circle which served as a door. 

I ‘‘What could it mean?” he asked himself 
many times. “Did the boy wish to steal the 
raven ? Did he, like the mad miner, hate the 
raven and wish to kill it ? Or was the Eskimo 
seeking a chance to kill him, that he might 
take his dog team and other belongings as 
his own ? 


CHAPTER IX 


WORK OF THE TIDE CRACK SPIRIT 

It was a strange life that Waste lived with 
these primitive people. Under the light of 
the circling moon, their white-domed houses 
cast dark shadows, and from shadow to shadow 
they flitted, these strange people of the North. 
Now a child brought a choice morsel from her 
mother’s stone pot, and now another child 
returned the compliment with some seal 
hearts pickled in seal oil. So they lived. 
Together they feasted; together starved. 

Waste killed for them with a magic of 
great noise, and his rifle, as long as there was 
open water for seals, added much to their 
larder. 

But this odd world was not without its 
perils. White bears and wolves were quite 
as likely to be hungry as the man who hunted 
them. They were living over the rushing 


THE TIDE CRACK SPIRIT 131 


currents of the ocean. This, too, had its 
perils, as a startling experience was destined 
to teach the boy. 

And there came a time when real starva- 
tion threatened. The ice had closed in tight, 
leaving no holes of open water where seals 
might be found reveling in the moonlight. 
The white bears, too, seemed to have left 
this region. The only hunting was through 
the ice. This was done by sitting over a 
seal’s breathing hole and harpooning him as 
he rose for air. But each seal kept several 
holes free from ice, and a hunter might sit 
by a hole hour after hour, with his back to 
the biting wind, only to return at last empty- 
handed. 

Waste would gladly have returned to Mac- 
donald’s cabin and spared these new friends 
the trouble of feeding him and his dogs, but 
without a supply of food, he dared not begin 
the journey. 

Since his rifle was useless in hunting the 
seal at this time, he one day laid it aside and 
went out armed with only a copper-pointed 
lance and a harpoon. He had done hunting 


132 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


of this sort while with the Eskimo of the West 
Coast, and hoped, with good luck, at least to 
add his share to the failing larder. 

That he might not interfere with the other 
hunters, he went far out over the straits, 
and there, believing himself to be quite alone, 
sat down on a convenient ice cake to watch 
a newly made seal hole. As he sat there, 
the silence seemed to close in about him. He 
was far from any members of his own race. 
He was among people who recognized no 
law save their own primitive rights and wrongs 
and customs, founded for the most part on 
superstitions. How easily he could pass 
into the great unknown ! What would be 
told of his death? Nothing. A tide crack 
might lift the ice and the waters rise to en- 
gulf him. There would follow a few gulps 
of agony, and a dark object would float 
beneath the surface. Only yesterday he had 
received a shock, when on sounding with a 
sealskin rope and copper axe, he had found the 
water to have no bottom at a hundred fathoms. 

As he pondered over these things, there 
came to him a new sense of loneliness. 


THE TIDE CRACK SPIRIT 133 


But what was that ? It seemed to him that 
he caught the notes of an Eskimo song, 
‘‘I-I-yi-yum-ya.” But as he rose and looked 
about, he saw only piles of ice and the purple 
shadows they cast. And if he had really 
heard the song, it had ceased. 

‘‘Only the wind,” he whispered to himself, 
as he once more fixed his eyes on the seal hole. 

But the seal did not come, and as the hours 
passed, he became drowsy. He might fall 
asleep. Well, what of that ? He was warmly 
clothed and not at all exhausted. Under 
such conditions, one might sit with his back 
to the wind and weather a blizzard sound 
asleep quite as well as among the deerskins 
on the bed-shelf of a snug snow house. 

He was nodding when the song seemed to 
come to him again, “I-I-um-ah-ah-ah.” It 
sounded like a weird chant of the dead, 
coming as it did from among cemetery-like 
fields of white ice piles and up-ended cakes. 

This time, as he stumbled hurriedly to his 
feet, he saw the Eskimo. And instantly, by 
the white eider-duck covering of his parka 
hood, he knew it to be Soolook. 


134 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


A strange fear overcame Waste. Quickly 
gathering up his hunting material, he started 
straight away over the ice. He was not 
surprised that Soolook followed him. He had 
heard from many the customs of these people ; 
how, when it has been decided that a member 
of the tribe has became a menace to the life 
of the tribe, another member is appointed to 
kill him. He suddenly became obsessed with 
the idea that this native had convinced his 
fellows that the presence of the white boy 
among them was bringing them to face fam- 
ine, and had gotten himself appointed execu- 
tioner. 

They were alone. Only the silent moon 
would be witness to the tragedy. Waste 
was no match for this skillful hunter, when it 
came to lance and harpoon. His rifle was 
far away. Already, as he hurried over the 
ice, he seemed to feel the sharp agony of the 
harpoon point being driven into his tender 
flesh, then the last thrust of the lance. 

Then, suddenly, he heard a shout from the 
pursuer. Then another and another. What 
could it mean? They seemed to be shouts 


THE TIDE CRACK SPIRIT 135 


of warning in tones of alarm. Could he be 
wrong Was some other danger threaten- 
ing? Was this boy, after all, his friend? 
As he turned he saw the other wildly beckon- 
ing to him. But surely, this was but a trick 
to bring him more quickly to his destruction. 
He turned to hasten on, but as he looked 
again, the Eskimo stood still, and his gestures 
became more violent. And now he threw 
himself flat on the ice. Then, lifting his cop- 
per-bladed knife above his head, he hacked 
at the ice. 

Suddenly Waste’s heart stood still. On 
looking down at his feet, he saw that he stood 
upon the ice as one might stand upon the roof 
of a tent. The ice sagged down from every 
side. 

Quickly dropping, stomach down, on the 
ice, he followed the example of the Eskimo. 
With the flrst blow his knife cut through, 
and water bubbled up. He put his ear to 
the ice and heard the waters of Union Straits 
bubbling and racing madly. A tide crack 
had torn away the solid winter’s ice, and he 
was on that which had newly formed. At 


136 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


any moment his dream of a little while ago 
might come true. For one long moment he 
lay there paralyzed. Then, gradually, power 
of locomotion came back to him. With lance 
shaft and harpoon held straight out before 
him, he began to crawl to where Soolook was 
still beckoning madly. 

And as he crawled, it seemed to him that 
he was at the bottom of an immense bowl 
made of ice, that he would never reach the 
rim ; but still he struggled on. 

Soolook was creeping toward him. What 
could this be for ? If they met, their combined 
weight would surely sink them. But the 
Eskimo was wise. He came only so far, then 
began backing slowly away. He was handy 
in case of accident, but not too close. 

And now Waste had covered haK the re- 
quired distance, now two thirds ; now, — 
now he had but twenty feet more to go. The 
ice where the Eskimo lay was quite solid. 

Then there came a dull crack, and after 
that water gurgled over his limbs. With a 
stifled cry he felt himself being dragged down. 
But the shafts of his hunting instruments 


THE TIDE CRACK SPIRIT 137 


arrested his plunge. These he gripped with a 
hand of despair. 

The Eskimo was coming to his aid, and with 
great cleverness he had broken away a flat 
slab of old ice and was pushing it before him 
like a raft. When quite close to the boy he 
climbed upon it and propelled it forward, as 
one propels a raft in water. Soon the cake 
was only a foot from the white boy’s head, 
and in another moment he felt himself being 
lifted upon the raft. The remainder was but 
the work of a few seconds. Panting and 
shivering. Waste lay upon the solid ice. 

Dragging his water-soaked garments from 
him, his rescuer began to chafe his limbs. 
When circulation had been restored, he 
stripped his warm outer garments from him- 
self and forced them upon the unwilling white 
boy. Then, garbed only in his thin under- 
garments of fawnskin, Soolook proceeded to 
march the boy back to camp. 

It was a hard, wearisome journey. Ex- 
hausted as he was by the strain and chilled 
quite through. Waste would never have made 
camp by himself. But when he would beg 


138 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


to be allowed to sit down and sleep, he was 
answered by the prod of the lance he had 
feared, only it was the blunt end. 

At last he tumbled upon the deerskins in 
Soolook’s snow house, and, after feeling a 
bowlful of hot seal blood and broth go gurgling 
down his throat, fell asleep to spend hours 
without end in happy dreams. And beside 
him sat Soolook, while above him, in grim 
silence, perched the talking raven. 

From time to time Soolook gazed enrap- 
tured at the raven and murmured, ‘‘Adop- 
teta!” (Father.) 

Many strange thoughts passed through the 
Eskimo boy’s mind as he sat there. Often he 
had examined the soles of Waste’s boots and 
marveled as he thought how like they must 
be to the ones that had made the footprints 
in the snow in the distant land of the Oo- 
ming-muck-suit. “Could this be the Kab- 
luna?” he had asked himself many times. 
And always another question sprang into his 
mind, “ How could a fierce Kabluna be friend 
of the Raven Father ?” 


CHAPTER X 


HUNTERS HUNTED 

Waste’s perilous dip in the ocean, though 
a source of momentary discomfort, proved a 
blessing in disguise. Soolook from this time 
on took an active part in preserving the life 
of the white stranger. He insisted that they 
hunt together. This did not displease Waste 
in the least, for every day he learned from the 
Eskimo some new feature of life on the roof 
of the ocean. 

It was while on one of these trips that he 
had what was, perhaps, the crowning ad- 
venture that came to him during his visit. 

The ice was still closely landlocked. Food 
was still very scarce. They had gone a greater 
distance than usual in the hopes of taking 
an oogrook (big seal) which would give them 
a greater supply of food. 

Waste had been watching an air hole for 


140 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


two hours and was becoming drowsy when, 
of a sudden, he thought he heard a strange 
sound behind him. It was like the angry spat 
of a cat, or the hiss of a goose. Turning, all 
alert, he found himseK facing a great, gaunt, 
yellow-coated polar bear. In the moonlight 
he looked immense. And, as the boy stared, 
he realized that he was immense. His white 
ivory teeth shone in an expectant grin ; 
his great neck seemed stretched abnormally, 
as he wagged his head slightly from side to 
side. 

“ He ’s hungry,” was Waste’s first mental 
comment. And that conclusion led to several 
others in quick succession. These white bears 
seldom see a man. They come from the great 
north fields of ice. ‘‘He will not fear me; 
he will think I ’m to eat. I ’m no match for 
him with these copper-pointed tools. Oh, 
for my rifle ! I ’m going to run for it !” 

All these thoughts consumed but an in- 
stant of time, and the next second the boy 
was dashing away at full speed, lance and 
harpoon rattling at his side, and the great, 
gaunt creature lumbering after him. 


HUNTERS HUNTED 


141 


And now, for the first time, he thought of 
Soolook. Where was he? He had hardly 
asked himself the question when he saw the 
Eskimo running, but running at such an angle 
that he would soon be joining the white boy. 

His heart beat high with admiration, if 
not with hope. His companion was joining 
him in his distress. The two of them were 
no more a match for the beast than one would 
be. When the Eskimo people hunted the 
white bear they worked in groups with many 
lances, harpoons and dogs. But two men? 
And such a bear ! 

As the boy ran on, finding himself taking 
his pace from the Eskimo, hope came to his 
rescue. Perhaps Soolook could lead the bear 
to whfere other hunters were; then not only 
would they be saved, but the famine would 
be at an end. 

This hope was short-lived, for on looking 
about, he nearly staggered with surprise. 
The bear, having doubled his pace, was hop- 
ping now like a jack rabbit, and it was only 
a question of time when he would be upon 
them. 


142 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


Sprinting ahead, Waste was soon abreast 
of his companion. His face told the story. 
Soolook looked back; then he too sprinted. 
But Waste read in his eyes a new note of 
surprise. 

“Wolves!” Waste exclaimed, as he too 
looked about. 

Behind the bear yellowish-white streaks 
were casting moving shadows. There was a 
pack of them. Driven to the ice for food, 
they were hunting the bear. This was the 
reason for his jack-rabbit loping. 

Here was a mix-up. WTiat was to come of 
it all? Men, bear, wolves were all hungry. 
Who would go away fed? 

But now Soolook was pointing out a plan. 
Waste studied his gestures. It did not seem 
to him possible that they could escape that 
way. Would not the wolf -pack set upon 
them ? They might, but, anyway, it was their 
only chance. They were far from every 
other native and going farther. 

As they neared a great pile of broken ice 
cakes, they slowed down a trifle, then glided 
directly to the right and into the shadows. 


HUNTERS HUNTED 


143 


There, with lances lifted, they waited. In 
an instant a great white bulk flew straight 
past them. Again their nerves grew tense. 
It was the wolves they feared most. The 
bear was too intent upon escaping from the 
wolves to heed the actions of those he had been 
pursuing. But now, as they gripped their 
lances and watched with straining eyes, a 
yellow streak flew by. They breathed more 
easily. Another and another shot past them. 
Waste counted as they passed. He was sure 
there were sixteen. Great, gaunt fellows they 
were, and their jaws chop-chopped as they ran. 

The boys sat down upon an ice cake and 
grinned at each other. When their breath 
came evenly again and their hearts beat more 
normally, they rose to go. 

‘‘Listen ! ” Soolook signed, placing his hand 
to his ear. 

From the distance there came the unmis- 
takable noise of battle. The wolves had 
overtaken the bear. It did not seem possible 
that these creatures could kill the untamed 
King of the North, yet Waste had heard many 
stories of just such flghts as this one. 


144 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


‘‘Are you afraid?” Soolook signed. 

Waste grinned. 

“Hungry?” The Eskimo signaled. 

Waste pressed his stomach. 

“Tired ? ” The Eskimo appeared to sleep. 

Waste shook his head. 

The Eskimo boy, apparently satisfied, led 
the way over the course the animals had 
taken. 

For an hour they walked rapidly over the 
smooth surface. The great bear had run a 
good race, but had lost. The noise of battle 
at first grew louder as they approached the 
spot, then grew fainter and fainter until it 
seemed a mere occasional snarl. What could 
have happened ? Had the wolves conquered, 
and were they now tearing away at the huge 
body ? Or had the bear broken from his 
tormentors and renewed the race for life? 
They would see. 

Now the Eskimo stooped low as he scooted 
from shadow to shadow and from ice pile to 
ice pile. They were coming near to the scene 
of battle. As the low snarls no longer seemed 
distant and grew slightly louder as they ad- 


HUNTERS HUNTED 


145 


vanced, they concluded that the wolves had 
won. 

But what was the Eskimo’s plan ? He 
did not tell Waste, so the boy followed on, 
his eyes wide open, his ears alert, and, if the 
truth must be told, he kept in view, first this 
great ice pile then that one ; for, he reasoned, 
if one were at the top of an ice pile, he would 
stand a fair chance against a number of wolves. 

Stealthily they pushed on until from be- 
tween two ice cakes they could see the pack. 
They were so crowded together that one 
could scarcely see the object on which they 
fed, but there could be no doubt as to its 
identity. 

Pulling Waste to a seat beside him, the 
Eskimo indicated that they would wait. So 
they sat there in the moonlight. Aside from 
an occasional snarl, and the low, cracking, 
munching sound of the feast, no noise disturbed 
the silence of the vast whiteness, which the 
moon flooded with a soft light or painted with 
purple shadows. 

But now Waste noted that one wolf slunk 
away from the carcass and disappeared ; 


146 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


another followed and still another. There 
is a limit even to the appetite of a hungry 
wolf. With sides bulging, they were creeping 
away to rest. 

And now the Eskimo gripped his lance as 
if undecided on their next course. There 
were still five wolves feeding. 

Another slipped off into the jumble of ice 
piles. 

“Come on,” signaled the Eskimo, slipping 
out from behind their cover. 

The greedy wolves did not see the boys until 
they were quite upon them. Waste found 
himself all a-tremble with excitement, and in 
this excitement he did a thing which nearly 
cost him his life. Gripping his harpoon in- 
stead of his lance, he sent the shaft crashing 
into the ribs of a wolf. The point only 
pierced the skin and entered the flesh without 
reaching a vital part. The wolf turned with a 
snarl of pain and rage. Then Waste, losing 
all control of himself, gave a tug at the leather 
thong fastened to the harpoon point. This 
brought the beast at him with a fresh snarl. 
With eyes burning, mouth frothing, teeth 


HUNTERS HUNTED 


147 


chop-chopping, Waste saw him come, and, 
staggering backward, fell over an ice cake. 
The fall saved him, for the beast leaped over 
him. The next instant there was the flash 
of a copper lance, and Soolook was to the 
rescue. 

Waste sprang to his feet, and, securing his 
lance, accounted for one of the remaining 
wolves. Soolook had killed three to his one, 
but not content with that, he dashed into the 
shadows and soon returned with a fourth. 

Then they sat down again and grinned. 
Fortune had come their way. Wolf meat was 
very good for both men and dogs. Counting 
the two killed by the bear, they had seven of 
these animals. There must be two or three 
hundred pounds of bear meat too. What a 
day for hunters ! 

But they were a long way from the white- 
domed village, so making a drag of a rawhide 
rope they prepared to haul one wolf carcass 
after them. They would send sleds for the 
rest of the meat. Famine was over for the 
present. 

And, indeed, famine ended right there, for 


148 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


only a few hours later a strong gale came from 
the shore. This, blowing the ice out to sea 
in many places, left plenty of open water for 
hunting. 

And now, since all was well with his toilers 
on the sea. Waste decided to make his way 
back to the trapper’s cabin. As he sat think- 
ing of it, before he slept his last sleep in a 
snow house, he realized that there were many 
problems to be solved. He could not take 
enough food for the entire journey ; he must 
depend upon his success at hunting for part. 
Elliot had been a poor companion, but now he 
had none at all. Then there was Elliot’s 
death. Would his friends believe his report? 
And what should be done with the sack of 
gold? 

In the midst of all these problems, the boy 
tumbled down among the deerskins and fell 
asleep. 

Eight hours later he was on his way. 
Shouting to his dogs, he went spinning away 
over the ice. He had packed his sled care- 
fully, yet his mind was ill at ease. It seemed 
to him that he must have left something be- 


HUNTERS HUNTED 


149 


hind. What could it be? He had left the 
ocean’s ice and gone plunging away over the 
jagged ice of the river, when it came to him 
with a start : 

‘‘The raven !” he exclaimed. “I forgot the 
talking raven !” 

Stopping his team he paused a moment in 
thought, then, throwing back his head, he 
laughed. 

“That Eskimo boy always liked the raven. 
I ’ll bet he held on to him when I left,” he 
chuckled. “Oh, well, if he wants to come 
with me, he ’ll come all right. And if he 
does n’t, what ’s one raven more or less?” 

With that he spoke to his dogs and went 
spinning away. 


CHAPTER XI 


‘‘ MOUNTIES 

Waste stared as he struggled along through 
the snow. Six inches of snow, hard and fine 
as granulated sugar, had impeded his travel 
for twelve long hours. The two days before 
that he had spent behind a cut-bank, weather- 
ing a blizzard. The blizzard had left this 
wide expanse of impassable snow. 

He was worried. There was no food on his 
sled. Already his supply of seal meat was 
exhausted, and he was not halfway to Mac- 
donald’s cabin. Not so much as a snowshoe 
rabbit had crossed his trail. The dogs were 
hungry, and so was he. 

But what was this he saw, as he neared the 
forest that skirted the lake? Could it be 
that tribes of Indians had come to hunt in 
this part of the forest ? Macdonald had said 
they never came here in winter. And yet, 


MOUNTIES” 


151 


there was a slender column of vapor rising high 
above the tree tops. Yes, and there was 
another and another. Surely, this was smoke. 
What could it mean ? Had some strange 
tribe of Eskimo left the ocean during the 
starving time and come here to hunt? Did 
he want to meet them? He did not. His 
experience with the others had been happy 
enough, but now he was headed for the land 
of white men. 

Presently, as he came closer, he was cer- 
tain that these could not be camp fires. 
There were too many of them. Were the 
woods on fire ? For a second his heart stood 
still. Then he realized that this could not be 
possible. It was mysterious, almost uncanny. 
The air was still, a feather might fall through 
it straight to the ground. All was quiet as 
a Sabbath morning. It was cold, too; he 
thought he had never known it so cold. 

And then, chancing to glance up, he laughed 
aloud. Stretching far up toward the clouds 
was a column of vapor rising from himself 
and from his dogs. The air was so still and 
so cold that their very breath rose straight 


152 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


above them like smoke. Joy leaped in his 
heart, for the columns of vapor meant that 
there were wild creatures in the forest, prob- 
ably caribou, and if success crowned his 
efforts, he would have a splendid feast before 
he slept. 

In another half-hour the dog team plunged 
into the forest. Once he was there, the boy 
could scarcely believe his ears; for all about 
him came the crash and snap of caribou 
making their way among the bushes and trees. 
He seized his rifle and stood with hammer 
raised, expecting at any moment to see one 
of the creatures break through the spruce 
boughs just ahead of him. But when he had 
stood there for ten minutes, until his hands 
became numb with the cold, he concluded 
that he had been deceived again. And this 
conclusion proved to be correct. In this 
death-still, frozen-empty Arctic atmosphere 
sound travels distinctly and far. 

Waste realized the truth of this with a new 
emphasis when, having tied up his dogs, who 
were whining to be away after the caribou, he 
attempted to stalk the game. The caribou 


MOUNTIES 


15S 


could hear his footsteps quite as easily as he 
could hear theirs. After he had hunted for 
an hour without catching sight of one of the 
brown-coated creatures, he was ready to 
despair. 

But as he watched the little white columns 
moving about above the trees, he noticed that 
the caribou were all going in a northerly 
direction. 

‘‘If I can skirt this neck of woods and find 
some rocky point, I can lay for them,” he 
told himself. 

Hastening away around the point, he came 
finally to a likely place, where he concealed 
himself in a small spruce tree. 

His heart beat high when he saw the white 
columns drifting closer and closer. At last 
he drew off a deerskin mitten and waited. 

There appeared in the opening before him 
a splendid antlered creature, then another 
smaller one. Sighting carefully, he fired ; 
then, jumping from the tree, he fired rapidly 
twice again. As he ran forward, he found the 
larger caribou where he had fallen in his track, 
and a short distance away was the smaller one. 


154 SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 

It was a wonderful feast he had two hours 
later. With the dogs grouped around him, 
with the smoke of a real fire rising up, up, up 
till it lost itself in the eternal blue, he sat long 
and ate slowly the rich red roast of deer meat. 
The seal and walrus and white bear of the 
ocean furnish food that one may eat to sus- 
tain life, but the caribou steak is a thing to 
dream of on lonely winter nights. 

The fire had burned down to a bed of glow- 
ing coals, and Waste was just thinking of 
sleep when, mingled with the sound of caribou 
still crashing through the forest came another 
sound, — a sound quite foreign to an Arctic 
wilderness. At first, it was faint like the noise 
of a waterfall; but as it came nearer, it be- 
became the tinkle of bells. 

‘‘Santa Claus, I ’ll be bound ! ” grinned the 
boy. 

He was sure now that some one was passing 
through the forest with a dog team, and 
from the bells he judged them to be white 
men. 

“Must be that Macdonald and Swen 
thought I was lost for good and have started 


MOUNTIES 


155 


out to meet me,” he said to his dogs. ‘"Well, 
I ’ll have to try to head ’em off.” 

With that, after listening to the sound for 
a moment, he struck off to the right of his 
camp. 

He had traveled for perhaps a mile, having 
often stopped to listen, when he concluded 
that he was directly in the course which the 
sled was taking. Then he stood still with 
heart beating wild in expectation. 

Imagine his surprise upon seeing plunge 
from among the spruce trees not his two 
friends of the cabin, but two members of the 
Canadian Mounted Police force. 

“Police! And in such a spot!” he mur- 
mured. “What in time? ” 

The men, catching sight of him, drove 
directly to him. 

“Where ’s your partner? ” asked the taller 
of the two, who appeared to be in command. 

“Over at Macdonald’s cabin, I hope. 
That ’s where I left him two months ago,” 
Waste smiled. 

“Macdonald’s cabin?” The police said 
the words slowly, looking with a sharp eye 


156 SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 

meanwhile. “He ain’t been at the cabin 
since you left.” 

Waste’s heart sank. Swen not at the cabin ; 
not there since he left? What could have 
happened to him? Certainly, this was hard 
luck indeed. To his mind’s vision came the 
picture of the golden-haired girl, Swen’s 
sister, and his heart reproached him for lead- 
ing the splendid fellow into this awful wilder- 
ness. 

“WTiy — why,” he stammered, “I don’t see 
what could have happened to him. He was 
there when I left.” 

“ Now see here, son ! ” The man’s tone was 
cold and hard. “We ’ve come a long way for 
that man, and we ain’t goin’ home without 
him. That ain’t the way the Mounted Police 
do things. If he ’s told you a yarn and bribed 
you into hidin’ him out by givin’ you half 
his gold, you might as well own up and 
produce him, for we ’ll take him or you. 
Mark that ! ” 

Waste’s mind was in a whirl. They had 
come for Swen! Swen, who was as tender- 
hearted as a child, and honest as Old Abe! 


MOUNTIES” 


157 


Something must be wrong. He thought for a 
moment, then a smile broke forth on his face. 

‘‘Oh !” he exclaimed, “you’re talking about 
Elliot.?” 

“That ’s what he called himself.” 

“He ’s dead.” 

“Dead?” 

“Yes, the Eskimo killed him when we first 
came upon the ice. He did n’t understand 
them, I guess, and I think he attacked them. 
I was n’t close to him, but anyway, he’s dead.” 

“Now, look here,” said the leader, looking 
the boy in the eye, “if you ’re stringin’ us — 
if you ’re hidin’ him out to get some of his 
gold — it ’ll go hard with you.” 

“Oh! If it’s the gold you want,” smiled 
Waste light-heartedly, “you ’re welcome to it ; 
I ’ve got it over on my sled. The Eskimo 
brought it to me ; said they did n’t think it 
was good for anything.” 

The men turned their team about and fol- 
lowed Waste to his camp beneath the spruce 
boughs. 

“Humph! Something round here smells 
good ! Got a caribou, I bet. We ’re hungry ’s 


158 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


a bear. Can you spare us a steak ? We ’ll 
talk business later.” 

The men had coffee in their kit, and when, 
after a feast of broiled steak and hot coffee, 
they sat down to talk, they were indeed in a 
mellow mood. 

Waste produced the sack of gold. After 
examining its contents, the tall man set it 
against a tree. Then he told how this man 
had gone with his partner into the enchanted 
wilderness to hunt gold ; how they had jumped 
a well-marked claim far up the Hare Indian 
River and had mined rich gold until winter 
froze them in, and then, for the gold, Elliot 
had murdered his partner. 

“But how did you find all this out?” asked 
Waste. 

“Elliot’s partner had a pet bird, a talking 
raven. He flew back to the fort after the 
partner was killed, and that ’s how we got the 
idea of foul play and ferreted it out. But the 
bird disappeared.” 

As they sat looking into the fire, there came 
a sudden rustle among the branches, and a 
raucous voice exclaimed : 


MOUNTIES” 


159 


‘‘Azeezruk! Ca?” 

The tall man jumped. 

‘‘That ’s him !” he exclaimed, as if he had 
listened to a ghost. “ Them ’s the very words 
he used to say ! Eskimo words they are.’’ 

Then Waste, in his turn, told of his adven- 
tures with Elliot and the talking raven. 

“That gold,” said the tall man meditatively, 
when they had sat by the fire in silence again 
for some time, “it ’ll have to go back to the 
fort, and then we ’ll have to try to find the 
rightful owners — the fellows that own the 
claim.” 

Waste started. An old, half -forgotten idea 
had come to him. 

“Say!” he exclaimed, “was that claim far 
up the extreme right fork of the Hare Indian 
River, up beyond two or three rapids, where 
the stream ain’t much more than a brook?” 

“Yes, sir, that ’s where.” 

“And was it staked with green spruce 
boughs that were blazed on the lower side and 
marked with a blue pencil ‘ W and P’ ?” 

“Yes, sir, that ’s just it,” said the tall man, 
staring at him. 


160 SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 

“Then that ’s the claim Swen and I worked 
last fall and were going back to next summer ! ” 

“ Guess you ’re right, son. Could n’t no- 
body prove up property like that unless 
they ’d been there, and nobody ’s been there 
except us and the jumpers that ’s dead and 
the original owners. And the gold belongs 
to you and your partner.” 

“But I suppose — suppose it ’ll have to be 
proved. I ’ll have to go to the fort just the 

? j> 

“Not ’s I know of,” said the other, shoving 
the sack toward the boy. “Up here in the 
North we ain’t much on red tape. Right ’s 
right, and when we see it, that ’s enough. 
Glad we could help you.” 

“Thanks!” Waste’s heart was full. Here 
was fortune indeed ! They had the gold Swen 
needed to make his sister comfortable and to 
give Waste his education. Now, if they could 
only get “outside”, all would be well. 

Two weeks after Waste arrived at camp, 
Macdonald announced his intention of re- 
turning south. He had a herd of cattle that 
he pastured in the rich valleys of Northern 


MOUNTIES’’ 


161 


Canada, and he must get back and bring them 
up from their stables. 

He invited the boys to join him, but though 
Waste felt that the ‘‘pocket” to their mine 
had been tapped by Elliot and his partner, 
Swen was for returning for another look at it, 
and he at last prevailed. The dangerous 
season was past. Already the days were 
longer than the nights. Caribou and game 
birds were passing northward. With a com- 
pass, rifles, and ammunition they could travel 
anywhere in safety. These articles were 
freely supplied by Macdonald, and they were 
soon on their way. 

Waste’s theory proved the correct one; 
the mine contained no more valuable digging. 

Now that they were back on the headwaters 
of the MacKenzie, they decided to build them- 
selves a raft of spruce logs and float down to 
the main river where they might hope to catch 
a steamer. 

It was while they were engaged in building 
the raft that, on climbing a promontory, 
Waste’s eyes beheld a strange sight. Down 
in a grassy spot, half overgrown with willows. 


162 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


were five hundred or more creatures quietly 
feeding. The color and size of them puzzled 
him. They were not caribou, for caribou 
were always brown. Some of these were 
white, some brown, some spotted. 

“ Reindeer ! ” he exclaimed. ‘‘ Reindeer, I ’ll 
be bound ! And here in this wilderness ! 
Five hundred at least ! Must have wandered 
away from some large Alaskan herd and 
traveled all this distance. Some worried 
Eskimo is hunting them at this moment. 
Much luck he ’ll have ! They ’re a thousand 
miles from their base.” 

“That means that one of us will have to 
stay and watch ’em,” he told Swen that 
night. “ There ’s at least ten thousand dollars’ 
worth of ’em, and we ’d be awful pikers if we 
went and left them. One of these dogs Mac- 
donald left us is a collie. He ’ll do for a herder. 
You go on the raft, and I ’ll stay. You send 
an Eskimo to take charge of them as soon as 
you can. What do you say ?” 

Swen gave reluctant assent to this plan, 
and a week later W^aste found himself in the 
midst of an uncharted wilderness with a 


MOUNTIES” 


163 


single collie dog as companion and a reindeer 
herd as his ward. 

‘‘It will be months before they can come/’ 
he told the collie as they sat by the camp fire. 
“But we ’ll have plenty of reindeer meat, and 
it ’s going to be great sport.” 

The dog wagged his tail for answer. Then 
suddenly he sprang up. Nostrils dilated, hair 
bristling, he leaped into the brush. 

“Azeezruk! Ca.f^” came in raucous tones 
from a near-by bush. 

Waste threw back his head and laughed. 

“Come on back,” he called to the dog. 
“It’s only our ancient friend, the talking 
raven, who seems to know all that ’s good from 
all that ’s bad. He ’s come back to make us 
a visit. I lost him two months ago. I call 
his return a sign of good luck.” 

The dog crept back to his place at the boy’s 
feet, but kept one eye cocked toward the bush 
where poised the black bird. 

“I wonder,” Waste said thoughtfully, ad- 
dressing the raven, “I do wonder if I ’ll ever 
see that strange, wild boy, Soolook, again? 
He was a queeer chap, but a mighty good pal. 


164 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


He had a funny way of almost worshiping 
you, raven.” 

The raven tipped his head on one side and 
plumed his one white feather, as he mumbled : 
“ Nagoovaruk ! Ca ? ” 


CHAPTER XII 

SOOLOOK TAKES THE SOUTHERN TRAIL 

Soolook’s eyes shone, his whip cracked, 
his feet came down with a smart spat, spat on 
the crusted snow. Every atom of his being 
was alive through and through. He had been 
on a long hunt, but on his sled there lay no 
game. What mattered that ? Was there 
not food a-plenty at the igloos? And was 
it not spring ? It was night now, but he had 
traveled through six hours of wonderful sun- 
light. And truly, in a land where night reigns 
for months, the new-born day is fresher and 
fairer than any seen or felt by other lands. 

But as the boy sped on his face clouded. 
Many things troubled and puzzled him. He 
had attempted to retain the Raven Father 
when the young stranger had left the tribe, 
but in this he had failed. The wary old bird 
had left him and had not returned. This had 


166 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


thrown him once more out of the class of 
great shamins. These days he was being 
treated as a very ordinary boy might be 
treated. Indeed, it seemed that many mem- 
bers of the tribe were bent upon heaping in- 
dignities on his head. Many menial tasks 
were given him to do. 

But these things did not trouble him so 
much. It was the great problem of the Kab- 
luna which interested and puzzled him more 
than ever. He had seen strangers who in 
many ways were like the fabled ones, yet in 
many ways were dissimilar. And not know- 
ing their language, he could not ask them if 
they were the Kabluna, and, if not, whether 
they had seen the Kabluna at any time. Now, 
with the call of spring, seemed to come a chal- 
lenge to go in search of the Raven Father and 
the true Kabluna. 

Then, suddenly, he remembered something, 
and his brow grew darker. This was the 
night of the beginning of the great five-day 
festival, — the Bladder Festival, greatest of 
the year. All the bladders of all the seals, 
walrus and polar bears killed during the year 


THE SOUTHERN TRAIL 


167 


had been carefully saved. They represented 
the spirits of the animals killed. Now these 
spirits were to be honored. The bladders 
would be fastened to the inner roof of a new 
igloo. In that igloo wild-parsnip stalks, care- 
fully dried and preserved, would be burned. 
The smoke would be sweet to the spirits. 
Water would be poured on the floor that they 
might drink. Meat would be set before them 
that they might eat. While one member of 
the tribe watched that not one bladder might 
be molested, or allowed to fall from its place, 
other members of the tribe in their own igloos 
would feast and dance, singing songs of the 
spirits. At the end of five days all the blad- 
ders would be taken to a hole in the ocean’s 
ice, where the current would carry them away, 
that they might return to their own. 

The time was when the boy would have 
welcomed this celebration, but in these days 
he felt keenly the call of the out-of-doors. 
And now he dismissed all these thoughts and, 
shouting, sent his dog-leader spinning away 
at redoubled speed. He must not be too late 
for the festival ; besides, he was hungry, and 


168 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


there was to be a feast. Always there was 
stuflFed tail of white whale, heart of polar bear, 
dried caribou steak, and pickled walrus liver? 
spiced with blueberries and bitter willow leaves. 

But what was this ? At the door of the new 
igloo where the bladders hung, he was halted 
by an angry witch-doctor. The shamin had 
witched, and the spirits had decreed that he, 
Soolook, should be watcher over the bladders. 
Already he was very late, and the shamin had 
been waiting. 

With drooping head and listless eyes, the 
boy threw his whip on the ground and, with- 
out unhitching the dogs, bent low and entered 
the igloo. There on the bed-shelf, on a single 
deerskin, he crossed his legs and sat alone. 

The igloo was a vile place, contrasting 
strangely with the keen, fresh out-of-doors. 
It was too late in the year for snow domes. 
The walls were of snow; the roof of sagging 
walrus hide. The air was reeking with blad- 
der smell and raw-skin smells. A flickering 
seal-oil lamp filled the room with suffocating 
smoke. And above all else, Soolook was 
both sleepy and hungry. 


THE SOUTHERN TRAIL 


169 


Hours passed, and as they passed, his head 
drooped lower and lower. At last he seemed 
to start up. The room was suddenly filled 
with great, gaunt animals, — walrus, polar 
bears, seals seemed to pass and repass. Dim 
ghosts they were; mere spirit beings, they 
appeared to leer at him, the walrus lifting their 
terrible mustaches, and the bears craning 
their outlandish necks. But now there en- 
tered another creature. He seemed black and 
substantial. No spirit was this, but a mon- 
strous fierce dog. He dashed at the spirits, 
and, rearing on haunches, seized them and 
dragged them all after him, as if they were 
tied together by a thong. He disappeared 
through the opening,, dragging the shades 
after him. With a start Soolook awoke. 

He had been dreaming. But how was this ? 
He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The 
bladders were gone. With a cry of despair 
he sprang for the door. The spirits had 
existed only in his dream. The dog was a 
reality, for was he not even now dashing away 
with the bundle of bladders tight gripped in 
his teeth ? 


170 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


With sinking heart, the boy leaped upon his 
sled and cracked his whip. His team was 
fleet, but not fleet enough to catch a single 
dog that carried only a feather’s weight of 
dried bladders. 

At last he dug his heels in the snow and the 
sled stopped. What new tragedy had he 
brought down upon himseK and his tribe ? 
Were the bladders not recovered, their spirits 
would bring an evil report of this tribe, and 
no animals would come to their hunting 
grounds, and there would be a terrible starv- 
ing time. So said the old shamin. Soolook 
did not believe it. Bah ! These were old 
men’s fables. But the people would be serious 
about it; might even kill him for it. 

Suddenly, as he stood there, into his mind 
there came again a call, — the call of the Kab- 
luna. His face turned to the south. A mo- 
ment he stood there irresolute. His hunting 
tools were on his sled ; his dogs were in prime 
condition. He would go. With eyes show- 
ing a new light, he turned his sled toward the 
point where the sun shone at midday and went 
spinning away. 


THE SOUTHERN TRAIL 


171 


By morning of the next day he had reached 
the shore where the great river fretted beneath 
its melting prison of ice. Here he captured 
a seal, on which he and his pack feasted. 
Then, beneath a cut-bank, they slept. 

In the journey southward, as long as they 
followed the winding course of the river, as 
long as the sloping land faced to the north, 
they were in a region that was known to him ; 
and its hiding places beneath rocky banks or 
squat, scrubby spruce yielded food in abun- 
dance. But once they had crossed the divide 
and gone plunging down into unknown forests, 
where towering pines cast dark shadows, and 
strange thorny bushes tore at garments and 
made sledding impossible, then they found 
themselves in a land where wild things were 
strange to him. The knowledge of tundra 
and sea is not the knowledge of southland 
forest.. Even the fish were different. They 
lay sparkling at the bottom of limpid pools, 
but did not rise to the boy’s barbless hook, 
above which were strung red scales from a 
sea-fowl’s leg. He needed fresh bait or files, 
and what did this boy know of these ? Insects 


172 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


he came to know to his sorrow, for mosquitoes 
and gnats swarmed by the millions, making 
day a nightmare and sleep an impossibility. 

Finally the famished dogs came upon the 
scent of some large creature. It proved to 
be a bear. He was black and not half the 
size of the monarch of the sea. ‘‘Easy meat,’’ 
so thought the dogs. But they found to their 
consternation that this creature had teeth and 
claws such as they had never known before ; 
and as for hugging, two dogs never lived to 
tell of it. At last the boy and the three re- 
maining dogs slunk away, glad to escape with 
their lives. 

Heat and rain added to their discomforts. 
The sun shone constantly. Soolook’s skin 
garments became impossible things of sod- 
den, ragged fur. But still they pushed on, 
until at last, with one more dog gone, the 
boy reached a spot where the forest ended, 
and a wide, sweeping, grassy valley lay before 
them. With a great sigh of relief and thanks- 
giving, he sank down beneath the last tree. 
A herd of some strange creatures wandered 
over the valley. As they fed closer to him. 


THE SOUTHERN TRAIL 


173 


he saw that they were not Oo-ming-muck- 
suit, nor were they caribou. Their legs were 
too long for Oo-ming-muck-suit, yet they did 
not have the towering antlers of a caribou. 
Whatever these creatures were, he decided 
that, by careful stalking, he and his two dogs 
might secure a calf, or a yearling, and then 
their fast would be over. 

The task of creeping down the hillside and 
through the tall grass of the lowland was a 
difficult one. But with the dogs whining low 
and sagging at their tie-ropes, the boy made 
his way forward to a vantage point. And 
there he lay, panting with anticipation. The 
excitement of the hunt was upon him. 
Hunger, fatigue, lacerated skin were all for- 
gotten. Here was a new, strange, wild thing 
to conquer, and this time he would conquer. 

And now the moment had come, for, wan- 
dering near them, was a short-horned creature, 
very evidently a yearling. With lance poised 
for a throw, the boy rose to his knees. It was 
an easy cast. Yet he must not miss, for once 
the stampede was started their dinner was 
lost, and death by starvation was already 


174 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


beckoning. The two dogs shared the excite- 
ment. They ceased to whine, but stood with 
lolling tongues and grinning lips, waiting. 
Now the boy rose suddenly to his feet and 
swung his arm back straight and strong. 

But at that second there came a roar from 
behind him. It was the roar of a human 
voice. The lance fell with a dull thud upon 
the grass. 

A man — a tall, muscular man — advanced 
toward him. On his face was written surprise, 
but neither fear nor anger. He looked the boy 
up and down, taking in every skin-wrapped 
bone, every bruise, every mosquito bite. 
Then he looked at the cadaverous dogs. After 
that he scratched his head and murmured: 

“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” 

The man was Macdonald. Soolook was 
led away to a cabin hid by pine trees. His 
mind was in a whirl. How was it that a 
man stopped another from killing a wild 
thing, — an animal created to be man’s food, 
and which offered many a juicy steak, he was 
sure ? After long puzzling he at last decided 
that among this strange people these horned 


THE SOUTHERN TRAIL 


175 


caribou were taboo for food, and that too was 
the reason they had not stampeded at sound of 
the human roar. 

He and his dogs were fed sparingly of strong 
broth. Then, with his shreds of garments 
laid aside, he was buried beneath strange 
covers and was soon asleep. 

To Macdonald, who had discovered this 
patch of nature’s pasture and had driven his 
herd of cattle here for the summer, the Eskimo 
boy in all his rags was familiar and welcome. 
But how had he covered those hundreds of 
miles? And why? He scratched his head 
and muttered : 

‘‘ He ’d have got that yearling bull of mine 
sure, if I had n’t stopped him. Bet he thought 
the cattle was wild things !” 

After that he dug into a duffel bag and 
dragged out shirt, socks, shoes and overalls. 

“They ’re miles too big, but they’ll be 
better ’n them skins,” he muttered, as he threw 
them beside the cot where the boy slept. 

The days which followed were strange magic 
to the Eskimo boy ; the light that burned in 
a bowl of charmed, unmelting ice; the fire 


176 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


that crackled in the strange black box ; 
and most of all, the food mixed with powders 
and liquids in boxes puzzled him. Surely, 
this stranger was a man of great magic. His 
food was good. It made Soolook strong. 

If it were a strange experience for the boy, so 
it was for his dog leader. When he had grown 
strong again, one day, as he lay lolling in the 
sun, there suddenly came to this dog the call 
of a hunt he had never finished. Straight away 
he hurried to the pasture of the horned cari- 
bou. Hours later he returned, dragging him- 
self miserably over the ground. A great bull 
had stepped between him and a fat calf, 
and with many a roar tossed him high again 
and again. When he recovered from this 
assault, he quarreled with a great yellow dog, 
and was soundly thrashed, but not killed and 
eaten, as he surely would have been in the 
land of the wild. Yes, this land contained 
strange magic for Eskimo boys and dogs. 

When Soolook had gained strength again, 
he was taken into the forest. He could not 
speak the language of the stranger, nor could 
that man speak his ; yet by signs and symbols 


THE SOUTHERN TRAIL 


177 


he learned the habits and hiding places of the 
strange wild things. And soon, while Mac- 
donald was tending the herd, Soolook was 
securing meat for the table. Three strange, 
wild caribou-like creatures fell before the roar 
of his magic killer. He tanned their skins, 
after the manner of his people, and with their 
sinew as thread, sewed them into garments 
for winter. Then one day he came upon signs 
of the terrible black bear that had crushed 
two of his team. Without food or sleep, for 
two days he followed this trail, and when on 
the third day he came up with the creature, 
a battle followed. At its close, the boy 
dragged behind him a black-furred hide and 
carried on his back a liberal portion of bear 
steak. The skin was tanned for a sleeping- 
robe. 

But of all the mysteries, the herd of horned 
caribou puzzled the boy most. Why were 
they watched so carefully ? If they were 
taboo, could not be killed and eaten, why 
guard them with such care? He was none 
the less puzzled when a second stranger ap- 
peared and, stacking jingling disks of metal 


178 SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 

on the table, departed, taking the herd with 
him. 

What were these disks ? Were they things 
of terrible magic? Soolook feared them; 
could not be tempted to touch them. And 
his surmises were supported by the fact that 
Macdonald slept now with many a sudden 
start and clawing out at the moose-hide 
sacks of disks which were placed near the head 
of his bed. Soolook took to dreaming of the 
terrible magic which might spring from these 
disks. They were yellow like fire. Perhaps 
the earth would burn. They were yellow and 
round like the moon; perhaps he and Mac- 
donald would take spirit-flight to the moon. 
So he dreamed, and in the meantime winter 
came down, the snow packed hard, and Soo- 
look, having made a sled, harnessed his two 
Eskimo dogs and three collies to go spinning 
over the crust. This pleased Macdonald, 
and soon it became evident that he was 
packing for a journey. 

The trail they took led them first to the 
south. Though the Eskimo boy trembled 
at the mere thought of advancing farther into 


THE SOUTHERN TRAIL 


179 


this strange land, his love for this new friend 
drew him on. Down through the meadows, 
then into a deep forest he traveled, Macdonald 
always at the lead, breaking trail for the dogs. 
He carried the magic killer, which Soolook 
had learned to call a ‘‘rifle”, and always his 
eyes roved from right to left, then from left 
to right. 

It was night when they came to a place 
where the forest parted and a narrow, snow- 
covered valley lay before them. Then it was 
that an ear-splitting screech broke upon the 
ears of Soolook. Not among the Indians 
from the Land of Little Sticks, not from the 
throats of any wild thing, had he ever heard a 
screech half so loud or half so piercing as this. 
He stood stock-still in his wild terror. His hair 
prickled, as if cold frost was in it. The sled 
and Macdonald passed on down the trail, 
but he stood there, for the flrst time in his 
life paralyzed with fear. 

And, as he listened, it came again. Wilder, 
more terrible, it seemed to pierce his ear drums 
and enter his very soul. He half-turned to 
fly, when his very muscles seemed to turn to 


180 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


stone. Before him, far down the valley, but 
approaching rapidly with a rumbling tread, 
was some giant creature. He could judge 
its size only by its rumbling tread and one 
thing more — one terrible thing — a single 
eye which glared and glowed and burned it- 
self into the very depths of his being. 

Then, with one wild wrench, he brought all 
his muscles into play and with a scream of 
terror, “The Kabluna ! ” he flew back over the 
trail. 

Running at flrst with no reason to guide him, 
he covered great stretches of white trail. 
But in time, reason having partially returned, 
he struck the long, untiring gait of an Eskimo 
runner. 

“Perhaps,” he said to himself, “though the 
Kabluna is so great and terrible, he is not a 
fast runner. I may yet escape.” 

So he ran the whole night through. When 
morning dawned he crept away under a rocky 
cliff that he might escape the gaze of that 
terrible single eye. 

He fell asleep but was awakened at last by 
something damp touching his hand. He 


THE SOUTHERN TRAIL 


181 


started in terror. But when he saw it was 
only one of the stranger’s yellow dogs, he 
laughed with joy, then sighed with sorrow over 
the loss of his friend. 

“So,” he said to the^dog, “you and I are 
the only ones who escaped alive !” 


CHAPTER XIII 


STRANGE MAGIC 

All day Soolook lay shivering on the rocky 
shelf with the collie dog curled up beside him. 
He had been particularly fond of this collie. 
Now a new bond held them together. They 
were like two wild things on a river raft. 

At times Soolook felt a strong impulse to 
retrace his steps to determine the fate of his 
friend. ‘‘Perhaps/’ he told himself, “there is 
still hope. It may be that he is not dead.” 

But as the night began to fall and every 
shadow seemed a wavering spirit-monster, 
his heart failed him. Finally he turned his 
face toward the upward trail and continued 
his journey from the land of the terrible voice 
and the more terrible eye. He had not gone 
far before he began to note that the rocks, 
the tree clumps, the bends in the trail and the 
river were all unfamiliar to him. After pon- 


STRANGE MAGIC 


183 


dering these matters for a long time, he was 
forced to the conclusion that in his mad rush 
of yesterday he had taken a wrong fork of the 
stream, and that he was now journeying over 
a territory entirely new to him. 

But this did not altogether discourage him. 
During the summer, he had learned the ways 
of the wild creatures in this new wilderness. 
He did not fear but that he should don well 
enough at making a shift at a living here. 
In the pockets of his skin trousers were some 
steel nails and a double-bladed clasp knife. 
Though he had no rifle, he would soon have 
weapons for defense and hunting. One blade 
from the clasp knife would serve as a point to 
a lance. The steel nails he would beat out 
thin and sharpen for arrow points. Sooner 
or later he would come upon a beaver dam. 
He would drive the beavers into their houses, 
stop up their doors, and dig them out. The 
sinew from their strong tails would furnish 
string for a bow. Then his outfit would be 
complete. ^ I 

During the night he snared two rabbits. 
He and the dog ate these raw, then hurried 


184 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


on. So began his journey back to the land 
of his own people. Yes, he would go back. 
Trusting that time would blot out the mem- 
ory of other days, he thought only of the mar- 
velous tales he would have to tell. None 
of the great shamins of the tribe had seen the 
Kabluna save in spirit flight, and not all these 
who had sought him thus had returned to tell 
of their adventures, — but he, Soolook, had 
he not seen the Kabluna ? Ah, yes, — he 
would tell of wonderful things. 

For many days his life was a repetition of 
that he had always lived. Sometimes a rab- 
bit, sometimes a partridge made his meal. 
At other times it was a fox or a gray timber 
wolf. Once he snared a wapiti and lived for 
days on its meat. Again, as he crossed a 
rocky ridge, he spied a mountain goat and 
devoted many hours to its stalking. In time 
a swift arrow found its mark, and he had goat’s 
meat for dinner. 

It was on one of these foraging expeditions, 
or rather a part of this great foraging expedi- 
tion, which, indeed, his entire journey was, 
that he had climbed a snowy ridge to survey 


STRANGE MAGIC 


185 


the horizon, when something strange attracted 
his attention. At first he thought it a drove 
of the horned creatures such as Macdonald 
had herded. They were white, brown and 
spotted, as those other creatures had been. 
But on working his way closer to them, he 
discovered that they bore aloft the great 
scraggy antlers of the caribou tribe. 

‘‘Caribou!’’ he whispered to his yellow 
dog. “Now we shall have a feast indeed!” 

The fact that these creatures had coats of 
many colors at first puzzled him. Then he 
remembered once to have seen three white 
and four spotted caribou in a great herd, and 
this reassured him. 

Creeping down the ridge toward them, he 
flanked a group of willows and came out be- 
hind a rocky ridge where the valley was nar- 
row. The herd was feeding up this valley, 
would soon be passing within arrow shot, 
and the wind was favorable. He sat down on 
the flat surface of a rock, drooped into a posi- 
tion of relaxation and repose, and waited. 

But fortune seemed to turn against him. 
The wind veered suddenly and wafted his 


186 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


scent directly toward the quiet herd. Surely 
now the old bulls would grow restless. They 
would stamp their hoofs on the hard snow. 
The herd would listen. They would trumpet 
forth a warning and a challenge; then the 
herd would go dashing away. Soolook and 
the dog would feed on rabbit that night, and 
even the dog had refused to touch rabbit. 

But what was this ? There came no stamp- 
ing of hoofs, no trumpeted challenge. There 
was not even the lifting of a head. 

This was strange indeed. Soolook found 
the thing displeasing. There was no glory 
in a kill where no strategy was needed. And 
besides, this was too much like the actions 
of Macdonald’s horned caribou. He almost 
felt that he might look to see Macdonald 
coming down through the valley with his 
collie dogs. 

Dogs.^ What was that he heard now? 
Was it a wolf ? Strange noises for a wolf ! 
It was a dog. Now he saw it plainly as it 
emerged from a willow thicket, barking as it 
ran. And there too was a man ! 

* Soolook’s senses reeled. ‘‘Must be I have 


STRANGE MAGIC 


187 


been too much alone/’ he mumbled to him- 
self. But no, his eyes and ears did not deceive 
him. It was a herd of caribou, a dog and a 
man ; and though the man was in plain sight, 
and the dog barked incessantly, the caribou 
did not shake their antlers, crook their necks 
or flee. 

“Foolish caribou !” he murmured, as he pre- 
pared his arrow. 

The whole herd was now in motion and 
would be passing him soon. But they did 
not move rapidly. The dog continued to 
bark. The man was advancing toward them. 
It was strange. 

The foremost caribou was well within range 
of the powerful bow. The bow was bent for 
the shot, when like a flash came into the boy’s 
mind a picture like this one, only the scenery 
was different; there were trees and rocks, 
while here was only ice and snow. And the 
creatures of the herd had horns instead of 
antlers. Again he heard Macdonald’s wild 
shout of warning. 

Some way, in his confused brain, there came 
the realization that through some strange 


188 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


magic of a great potency, a whole herd of 
caribou had been made to do the bidding of a 
man and a dog. At any rate, he would see, 
— yes, even at the risk of being forced back 
to his diet of rabbit’s meat. 

Replacing the arrow in his quiver, he waited 
until the last caribou had passed, until the 
man was walking before him. Then, with 
startling suddenness, he let forth a wild shout 
of joy. There had been a puzzling familiarity 
about the gait of the man and the manner 
in which he wore his skin parka. Soolook 
had now recognized him as the one who had 
visited his tribe, bringing with him the long- 
lost Raven Father. 

And it was indeed the Waste Warren of 
other days. The creatures were not caribou 
but reindeer, — the reindeer herd he had 
elected to watch until an Eskimo from 
Alaska would come to relieve him from 
the responsibility. No Eskimo had yet 
come. He had watched the herd the summer 
through and had prevented them from wan- 
dering far. He was now living in a “hogan” 
built of willow brush, and was at this moment 


STRANGE MAGIC 


189 


engaged in his daily task of driving the herd to 
the vicinity of his “hogan”, from whence they 
would again feed out, but not too far, each 
day. 

It was a joyous reunion. Especially glad 
was Waste to see his old pal of the Arctic ice. 
He had been lonely; and besides, might he 
not now hope, with the aid this wild boy and 
his collie dog, to begin the long drive which 
would bring the herd back to its rightful 
owner? 

As for Soolook, the control of the herd was 
due to a great magic, and he had formed a 
strong resolve to discover the secret of this 
wonderful power that he might use it on the 
herds of brown caribou which passed through 
the hunting grounds of his people in autumn, 
— hundreds and hundreds of thousands. And 
if he learned the secret, would he not become 
the one great person of his tribe, — the 
shamin whom every other shamin fears? 

And that night the secret came to him. 
The stranger had a black draught which he 
made by putting a handful of brown grains 
into a pot of water and boiling them. When 


190 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


the water came away, it was black as night. 
Into this black draught, when it had been 
poured into a cup to cool, he dropped two white 
cubes. These cubes made it no whiter. 
Soolook watched with eagerness while the 
stranger stirred the potion with an oddly 
shaped metal affair. 

“Will he drink it?'' he kept asking him- 
self, “or will he pour it upon the ground that 
the spirits of all dead caribou may drink of 
it and go away to tell all live caribou to do the 
bidding of the stranger.^” 

He counted the times Waste stirred it : 
seven times from right to left, nine from left 
to right. Seven and nine, he must not forget 
that; it was doubtless part of the magic. 

Then Waste put the cup to his lips and 
sipped it gingerly. After that he drank 
half of it. Then, remembering his guest, he 
poured a second cup, and offered it to Soolook 
with the two white cubes. In a wild panic of 
terror, the boy refused. He dared not drink 
it. What power lay in that cup he could not 
tell. Perhaps, since he was an Eskimo, it 
might lift him through the roof and carry 


STRANGE MAGIC 


191 


him away to the moon. No, indeed, he would 
not drink it. But the two white cubes he 
wrapped carefully in a bit of oiled skin. So 
much of the magic formula was his. Could he 
but get some of the brown grains, the thing 
would be complete ; the vast droves of caribou 
would be within his power. And as he thought 
of those herds that, passing by on either side 
of a hill, made the whole world seem a sea of 
brown, he felt sorry for Waste, who watched 
but five hundred creatures, when he might be 
herding more than man can count. 

Ten days Soolook remained with Waste. 
In that time he learned many things : how to 
lasso, rope and harness a sled-deer; how to 
direct his dog in rounding up the herd ; how 
to prevent the herd from stampeding by 
singing cheerfully when they seemed restless 
and disturbed. Many more things he learned 
about the handling of these creatures of the 
tundra. Only one thing more did he learn 
about the black draught : one did not always 
stir it seven times from right to left and nine 
from left to right. He might stir it six and 
four, or eight and fourteen. When one was 


192 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


in haste, he stirred it little. When he was 
quiet and at rest, he stirred it many times. 
This puzzled him, but he concluded at last 
that it was not important. The one great 
and important feature was to secure some of 
the dark brown grains. 

Finally, with wildly beating heart, he in- 
dicated to Waste that he would like some of 
the grains. Waste, though the can was nearly 
empty, and though he knew it would be 
long before he might obtain more, gave it 
to him, and watched him as he wrapped it 
carefully in oiled skin of a ground squirrel. 
Then he smiled. He had given this present 
to the boy because soon he hoped to impart 
to him by the sign language that he wished 
him to go with him on a long journey to a 
strange land. 

“But what,” he asked himself, “does this 
wild boy want with the coffee? He stead- 
fastly refuses to drink from the cup, yet he 
desires the grains and received them with 
many bows of thanks. This is strange!” 

The next morning, when Waste awoke, 
Soolook was gone. When he had waited three 


STRANGE MAGIC 


193 


days for his return, he gave up his fond dream 
of immediate relief from exile and settled down 
to await the coming of an Eskimo from the 
Alaskan herds. 

As for Soolook, blissfully ignorant of the 
fact that Waste had been sorely disappointed, 
he was hastening away over hills and tundra, 
his one thought to come in contact with the 
great herds that would be passing south soon 
to their winter feeding grounds. 

It was on the evening of the third day that 
he heard the distant crock-crock of caribou 
hoofs. And now he was puzzled. The black 
draught must be hot when he drank it, but if 
he paused long enough to make a fire, the 
caribou might pass him by. No matter; 
he must risk it. Hastily gathering dry moss 
and willow branches, he lighted a fire. A half 
hour after, he stood by his fire, a steaming 
black draught in his musk-ox-horn cup. 
Slowly dropping in the cubes, he stirred it 
seven times one way, nine the other; then 
with a little gasp, he put the cup to his lips. 
The taste of it was both bitter and sweet. 

“Ah-ne-ca!” He had tasted it, and noth- 


194 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


ing terrible had happened. Hastily he gulped 
it down, burning both his tongue and his 
throat. 

‘‘Ah-ne-ca! How strong and brave it 
makes me feel ! ” he murmured, as he hurried 
away to the crest of a hill where he might get 
sight of the caribou. 

But just here he met with a disappointment. 
The caribou herd he saw was small, not more 
than two or three hundred; the great herds 
were not yet passing. 

Discouraged, disappointed, broken-hearted, 
he sat down upon the snow. His potion was 
gone, and with it had passed his great oppor- 
tunity. He would never have courage to 
ask for more, and the power of this would be 
long spent before the passing of the great 
herds. 

Then with new resolution he sprang to his 
feet. 

‘‘Ah-ne-ca!” he muttered. “A few are 
better than none.” And calling his dog with 
great confidence, he approached the caribou. 
But what was this ? They had no more than 
gotten wind of him than they were away. 


STRANGE MAGIC 


195 


with clashing antlers and cracking heels. 
The magic potion had not worked ! 

Again the boy sank down upon the snow. 
All his grand dreams of power had vanished. 
But wait ! His dog was barking somewhere 
far away. Perhaps all was not lost yet. 

Hastening toward the place from which the 
sound came, he was met halfway by a very 
reluctant herd, driven by an enthusiastic 
yellow dog. 

But such a herd as it was ! Not thousands 
— not hundreds even — but twenty-four ; 
that was all. Soolook laughed loud and long 
at sight of them. 

Then, presently, his face sobered. Here 
at least he had something, — the beginning of 
a herd. In the spring there would be fawns. 
He would guard them well, and in time would 
become a wonder among his people. 

One thing he marveled at and did not under- 
stand : of these twenty-four caribou, eight 
were brown, nine spotted and seven white. 
In this they resembled those five hundred in 
the herd over which Waste Warren watched. 


CHAPTER XIV 

THE VANISHING HERD 

Waste Warren threw back his Arctic 
parka hood as he gained the crest of the 
ridge. Then, halting his reindeer, he climbed 
out quickly from his place on the sled. For a 
moment he stood gazing down at a narrow 
gully where a bunch of willows still waved 
their clinging dead leaves in defiance of 
winter’s fiercest blast. 

His brow wrinkled. His eyes were fixed 
on a small tent which stood out white in the 
midst of the willows. Then, putting finger 
to lips, he sent out a shrill whistle echoing 
down the ravine. 

No answer came back. No head appeared 
at the opening of the tent fiap. 

His brow more wrinkled than before, he 
cupped his hands and shouted, “Allockeok! 
Oh, Allockeok!” 


THE VANISHING HERD 


197 


Again no answer. For a time he stood there 
on the hill crest and allowed the events of the 
past month to run through his mind. Six 
days after the departure of Soolook, Alloc- 
keok, a civilized Eskimo, had arrived for the 
reindeer herds from Alaska. With three 
sled deer, with supplies of food, a camp kit 
and two collie dogs, he had come prepared to 
assist in the task of bringing home the vagrant 
herd. “But,” he had explained to Waste, 
“we must not start at once. There are rapid 
rivers not yet frozen over. Too much rein- 
deer must be drowned if we start now.” 

So Waste had settled down with him to 
the herder’s life in a tent. 

Two days before he had gone on a caribou 
hunt, leaving the herd in Allockeok’s care. 
Allockeok had promised to be at the tent 
when he returned. Evidently he was not 
there. The fact that the time for his return 
from bringing in the herd was long past wor- 
ried Waste. The Eskimo and the herd seemed 
to have vanished. 

Hastening down the hill. Waste threw back 
the tent flaps. A meal, cooked but not tasted. 


198 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


stood on the camp table. The tea was al- 
ready frozen over. 

Pausing only long enough to gather up a 
supply of cold meat and a box of tea, the boy 
returned to his sled. He quickly stowed this 
food supply on the sled. Then, untying his 
deer, he resumed his seat, and slapping his 
reindeer, went spinning away down the ravine 
in search of a broad, hard-beaten trail, which 
would tell that a reindeer herd had passed 
that way. 

That he was not long in finding, for the 
herd, in its very evident stampede, had crossed 
that ravine. 

And, yes, as his sharp eyes studied the trail, 
he saw clearly marked the tracks of wolves 
and a sled. The sled was that of Allockeok. 
But the round, soft-padded tracks were made 
by wolves stampeding the herd. The herd 
had vanished. He must find it. 

The three-hour Arctic day closed with a 
lingering twilight. Then the moon began 
rolling its red way across the hill-tops. Still 
the boy followed the broad trampled trail 
of the herd. Once his heart leaped high with 


THE VANISHING HERD 


199 


hope as, upon reaching the summit of a hill, 
he saw away in the distance a broad patch of 
brown, — an island of color in an ocean of 
white, it needs must be the herd, — or so he 
thought. But upon coming nearer, he found 
it to be only a bunch of scrub willows growing 
on the shore of a frozen lake. Again he 
seemed to hear the crack-crack and faint clash 
of antlers far away. But this too proved to 
be a delusion; the cracking sound was due, 
doubtless, to the electricity playing across 
the crisp, frozen air. 

And now, on a promontory, looking away 
at broad stretches of tundra where nothing 
obstructed his view, his eye followed the trail 
until it narrowed to a mere ribbon, to dis- 
appear at last just before a towering moun- 
tain whose peak smoked like a volcano with 
the snow blown over it. 

The crossing of broad stretches of tundra 
was uneventful. So accustomed had his 
reindeer become to following the broad trail 
they now did so with no guiding. Seeing 
this, he allowed himself the luxury of a few 
moments of sleep. Sitting there erect, his 


200 SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 

head drooping, he might have seemed a frozen 
statue. 

It was after one of these sleeps, of what 
duration he could not tell, that he awoke 
with a start. Rubbing his eyes, he stared 
about him. The sled was at a standstill. 
The reindeer was not pawing the snow for 
moss. It stood there patiently, as if ex- 
pecting a guiding twitch of the reins. To his 
right lay the steep slope of the great moun- 
tain. On all other sides there still stretched 
the endless tundra. 

Speaking cheerfully to his sled deer, he 
slapped him on the thigh. The beast moved 
some four sled-lengths, then paused again. 

And now, with a start the boy realized 
that they were completely off the broad trail 
of the herd. The wind-packed snow about 
him was void of hoof-prints, save those of 
his own reindeer. 

“Oh, well,’’ he said cheerfully, tumbling 
off his sled and pulling at the rein to turn his 
deer about, “we ’ll soon be with it again.” 

He had retraced the trail of his own deer 
for perhaps a hundred yards when he stopped 


THE VANISHING HERD 


201 


in amazement. He had, indeed, come upon 
the broad trail of the herd once more, but 
instead of swerving to right or left, as he had 
expected it to do it had vanished completely. 
There it was some fifty yards wide, hard- 
tramped and plain to see, and there at the 
base of a gently sloping incline it ended, — 
ended abruptly, with no trace of its onward 
marchings. It was as if the deer had suddenly 
taken wing, like a covey of ptarmigan, and 
flown away. As the boy closed his eyes, he 
had visions of five hundred reindeer hitched 
to sleds, flying through the air with long- 
bearded, fur-clad men at the helm. 

Santa Clauses,” he murmured, and smiled. 

Then he shook himself. This was no time 
for dreaming. The herd had vanished — 
completely — and they had left no trace of 
their further wanderings. More than that, 
Allockeok had vanished with them. Yes, 
there were the marks of his sled still plainly 
to be seen smoothing its way across the 
trampled trail till it ended where the broad 
trail ended, at the foot of the gentle slope. 

In a daze he stared about him. Tracing 


202 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


and retracing his steps here and there, he 
found no clue. Then, because there was 
nothing that seemed more worth-while to 
do, he turned his reindeer toward a spot down 
the valley where a small forest of scrub- 
spruce trees lined the banks of a stream. 
There is companionship and comfort to be 
had from trees, and the boy felt strangely in 
need of both. 

The sight of a cabin not far from the en- 
trance to the scrub forest warmed his heart. 
He had not hoped to find warmth and shelter 
in such an out-of-the-way place. Yet, here 
it was — a sturdy log cabin — and back of it, 
tier upon tier, was a wood pile. 

‘‘Some old sour-dough miner,” the boy 
whispered to himself. 

But, as he rounded the corner of the house, 
his hopes sank; the door stood half ajar; 
the threshold was buried with fine-sifted snow. 

“Well, it’s a shelter, anyway,” he said, 
dropping from the sled and leading his 
reindeer forward. 

He looked within. The place was a scene 
of wild confusion. Chairs were overturned; 


THE VANISHING HERD 


203 


a table reposing in the fireplace had one leg 
half burned away; sacks of salt, boxes of 
pepper, quantities of beans were strewn about 
the fioor. 

Stepping inside, he examined spots on the 
floor. Beyond a doubt they had been 
splotches of blood. 

With a chill creeping up his spine, he sought 
again the open air. He tied his reindeer and 
walked aimlessly around and around the cabin. 
Then, suddenly, his foot struck some object 
half-buried in the snow. 

Digging gingerly away at the snow, he pres- 
ently uncovered the face of an aged miner. 
Bruised, cut and blood-stained as it was, 
he was able still to recognize the face of one 
of those cheerful, harmless old men who came 
to the Arctic in their prime, ‘‘in ’93”, to make 
a fortune in gold, and who, being “too much 
the loser to go outside”, had lingered there 
year after year, still searching for the illusive 
“color.” 

“I wonder who has done this,” Waste said 
to himself. 

As he searched the body, the answer came. 


204 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


A trifling leather ornament, such as is worn 
only by the Indians of the Land of Little 
Sticks, still clung to a button on the miner’s 
trousers. It had doubtless been torn from 
an Indian’s garment as they struggled. 

The lad hurried back to the cabin and made 
a careful examination. There could be little 
doubt but this ravage had been committed 
by Indians. The articles they had carried 
away told the story. And, very soon, at the 
edge of the woods, he found their single file 
track where it crossed a bank of soft snow. 

“Twenty or more,” he mumbled to him- 
self. “They ’re a bad lot, these Indians of the 
Farthest North.” 

Turning his reindeer away from this lugubri- 
ous spot, and from the scrub forest whose 
murmuring branches no longer spoke to him 
in tones of companionship, he hurried over 
his back trail, and began skirting the moun- 
tain. Whether his friend-herder arid the 
herd had truly vanished from the earth he 
must know. 

For an hour he jogged along over the ribbed 
banks of snow. Then suddenly he leaped 


THE VANISHING HERD 


205 


from his sled. He had come upon a trail. 
Not the broad trail of the herd, but the narrow 
trail of the Indians. The trail took the curve 
which he intended to follow. 

Throwing a cartridge into the barrel of his 
rifle, he trotted beside his sled with eyes 
scanning the horizon. He had not traveled 
far, however, when he found the trail here and 
there disappearing. Again he stopped his 
deer and examined the snow closely. In a 
second he straightened up with a start to gaze 
away at the surface of the mountain. A 
great understanding was coming to him, and 
with it a great new fear. 

He seized his reins and lashed the reindeer 
into a rim. Now and again, as he ran beside 
him, he cast an apprehensive glance at the 
towering mountain of snow. A strange, new 
peril threatened him. 

The fear which gripped his heart, as he 
lashed his reindeer into a run, was no unnamed 
peril of the mountain. It was something 
very real indeed. The summit of this gigan- 
tic mountain range, as it seemed to smoke 
from the drifting snow, had always interested 


206 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


him, and once, with dog-sled and pack, he 
had fought his way almost to the top of one 
of these peaks. So near the summit had he 
come that the strange snow formation had 
been clearly and startlingly visible to him. 
The snow, drifting day after day, week in and 
month out, had been driven over the crest 
and packed hard, until now it was so curved 
over that it seemed the fore part of a great 
white toboggan. And a giant toboggan it 
was, too, for this bent portion could not have 
been less than three hundred feet from point 
to point. 

And just at this juncture, as he had strug- 
gled upward for a better view, he had wit- 
nessed a wonderful and terrible phenomenon. 
Loosened by some flaw in its own formation, 
shaken by some gust of wind, disturbed by 
who knows what force, a great mass of snow 
from this toppling crest had plunged a thou- 
sand feet below, to crumble into bits and go 
plowing on and on toward the base of the moun- 
tain, bearing with it thousands of tons of snow, 
fine as granulated sugar, to bury a score of 
feet any object that chanced to be in its path. 


THE VANISHING HERD 


207 


It had been such an avalanche as this that 
had buried the broad trail of the herd. The 
fine-sifting snow told that story. What 
Waste now feared was a second avalanche. 
Had the first one buried the herd and Alloc- 
keok ? This he must know before leaving the 
vicinity of the mountain. But first, for his 
own safety, he must put a greater distance 
between himself and the peak. 

When he had gone a safe distance, having 
traveled far with little food and no rest, he 
had about decided to tether his reindeer over 
some rich moss bed and snatch two hours of 
sleep, when a cry of joy escaped his lips. 
He had come once more upon the trail of his 
herd. On all sides of him were the hoof- 
prints of reindeer. And, had there been any 
doubt left in his mind, there, plainly marking 
its way over the rougher trail, was the track 
of Allockeok’s sled : the avalanche had come 
down after the herd had passed. Only one 
thing troubled Waste now. The Indians had 
come upon this trail also and had read the 
signs of the passing herd. They had followed 
the trail. , 


208 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


His fear for Allockeok’s safety in this new 
crisis led the boy to shake from him the drowsi- 
ness which threatened to overpower him and 
to urge the hungry reindeer onward. He had 
not gone far when a new puzzle presented 
itself : a narrower trail, yet surely made by 
caribou or reindeer, joined the broader trail 
at an acute angle. And what was still more 
strange, a sled track followed this small herd, 
just as Allockeok’s followed the larger herd. 

“Some native hunting caribou,” was his 
mental comment. 

Yet this conclusion was not wholly satis- 
factory. The caribou or reindeer, which- 
ever they might be, did not travel as if 
pursued. And the sled ? How was it drawn ? 
Certainly not by dogs, for there were no fresh 
dog tracks save one, and this did not follow 
the course of the sled. What was the answer ? 
Had a smaller reindeer herd escaped and gone 
on a stampede, as the larger one had? And 
was it being pursued, as was the other, by a 
native? It would be strange, indeed, if two 
herds pursued by herders should cross trails 
in this desolate land. Then, too, the tracks 


THE VANISHING HERD 


209 


made by the runners of the stranger’s sled 
were narrower and closer together than those 
of any reindeer sled he had ever seen. 

The small herd followed in the tracks of 
the larger one for some distance, but in time, 
by an apparent urging on the part of the 
stranger and his dog, they had taken an acute 
angle, and their trail disappeared up a ravine. 

‘‘Strange old world!” said Waste, stroking 
his chin. “That fellow now might be of 
great assistance to us and we to him, provided 
— well, now — tell me is he friend or foe?” 


CHAPTER XV 

“ CARIBOU ” 

Waste now found himself at the base of a 
ridge. A steep and slippery ascent lay before 
him, but since the herd had chosen to go that 
way, he must follow. Twitching his reins, 
first this way, then that, to force his sled 
deer into a zigzag trail, he made his way 
upward until he stood upon the very crest 
and was able to see miles in all directions. 
His eyes at once sought the broad trail, and 
to his joy he saw on a tundra the herd he had 
been seeking. They were quietly feeding. 
If wolves had stampeded them in the begin- 
ning, these had apparently long since given 
up the chase. 

But Allockeok, the Eskimo herder, and the 
Indians? Where were they? 

Instantly his eyes sought some nearer 
levels. And with the first glance, his blood 


“CARIBOU 


211 


ran cold. There, still plodding forward, half- 
asleep no doubt from his long hours of ex- 
haustive travel, was Allockeok, and on the 
ridge behind him was a solitary Indian. The 
Indian was at this very moment lying on his 
stomach in the snow, taking careful aim at 
the plodding herder. 

In his excitement Waste uttered a cry of 
warning. Then, realizing the futility of a 
shout when two miles or more intervened, he 
started forward as if to go to the rescue of 
his friend. But this also would be folly. 
Hidden in some ravine, perhaps even in am- 
bush waiting for him, were the other Indians. 
He could do nothing. He must wait. 

The Indian, seeming not to be satisfied with 
his position, lowered his rifle and moved far- 
ther up the hill. He then took steady aim 
once more. But a Providence, unseen but 
certain, appeared to be watching over the 
Eskimo boy, for this time a deep cut in the 
ridge over which he traveled hastily cut him 
out of view of the Indian. And, by the time 
he had crossed the cut, he was below the higher 
ridge and quite out of sight. If the Indian 


212 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


was again to get into position to shoot, he 
must cross a broad hollow and climb to the 
top of the ridge which the Eskimo boy had 
just left. 

With a sigh of relief, Waste sank down upon 
his sled. His limbs would no longer support 
him. Long hours of fatiguing travel without 
food or sleep had done its worst, and this last 
nervous strain had completed it. He must 
have rest. Without this, he could be of no serv- 
ice to his brave young companion, the Eskimo 
herder. Come what might, he would sleep. 

Turning his reindeer down the ridge toward 
a point where a clump of willows waved their 
dead leaves in the wind, he walked ahead as 
if in a stupor. When presently the reindeer 
paused and began cropping the leaves, he 
staggered from his sled, and, tying the deer, 
crept beneath the canvas cover and immedi- 
ately fell fast asleep. 

And during all this time, on a rocky prom- 
ontory, somewhat higher up the ridge, there 
had stood a solitary figure. It was Soolook, 
who had followed the smaller herd, which had 
some time before crossed the broader trail. 


“CARIBOU’’ 


213 


His small herd was to be seen in a narrow 
ravine at the head of the hill. It was presided 
over by the collie dog. The boy had been 
watching for some time; had seen the little 
drama of the Indian and the Eskimo herder, 
Allockeok. Had any one come close to him, 
he would have realized that Soolook was 
puzzled. He knew where the Indians were 
in ambush. He had seen the great herd of 
reindeer; had even followed it. But now 
he was at a loss to know what he might do 
for his friend. Waste. 

He had seen Waste move back to the clump 
of willow bushes, so, having moved his copper- 
pointed spear to a position of advantage at his 
side, and having looked to the arrows in his 
quiver, he made his way cautiously down the 
ridge toward the clump of willows where 
Waste slept. 

With the quick, gliding stride of his people, 
he covered the distance in an incredibly 
short time and was soon peering through the 
bushes. At first he approached the reindeer, 
but when the creature snorted he dropped 
quickly behind a short willow shrub. 


214 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


When he saw that the sleeper had not been 
aroused, he crept closer and, rising on tiptoes, 
stared at the sleeping boy and his sled. His 
mind was in a turmoil. Should he join this 
sleeper, or should he fight alone when the time 
came.^ He was accustomed to doing things 
alone. He decided on that course now. 

He had gained the hill crest once more, 
when suddenly his hands went up in a gesture 
of astonishment. And well they might, for 
his herd had vanished. 

It was at this time that Allockeok, the Es- 
kimo herder from the land of the white man, 
first caught sight of this wild boy from the 
land of the Far North and the Coppermine 
River. Allockeok was lying at the top of a 
ridge. He was concealed from view, partly 
by a growth of ‘‘mukluk’’ grass and partly 
by a snow barricade he had erected. He had 
caught sight of the Indian just as he reached 
the last ridge, and he had dropped to the snow 
just as the Indian’s well-aimed rifle ball came 
singing over. Grasping a sled-rail, the Es- 
kimo had allowed himseK to be dragged down 
the slope. When well out of range, he had 


CARIBOU’’ 


215 


quickly tied his reindeer to the sled, unroped 
his rifle, and crept back to the crest under 
protection of the “mukluk” grass. 

But the Indian evidently realized that he 
had been discovered. He had disappeared 
and was probably in ambush behind the next 
hill. 

Allockeok was puzzled and angered. He 
had always lived under white men’s laws, 
and knew very little of the ways of this 
far Northland. Only rumors of the cruelties 
of these Indians from the Land of Little 
Sticks had come to him. Now, while he 
wondered that they should be cruel enough 
to ambush him for the purpose of driving 
away his herd for slaughter later, when the 
forests were full of caribou, he still felt rising 
in his breast a strong resolve to play the game 
cautiously and sell his life dearly in protecting 
the rich herd which had been intrusted to 
his care. 

He had no doubt but that there were more 
Indians about ; that they might at this very 
moment be skulking around to outflank him. 

It was while scanning the hills for these 


216 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


probable enemies that he caught sight of the 
lone wild boy of his own race. He could not 
know that the boy was from another land, but 
he did know at once that he was an Eskimo : 
his garments and manner of walking told him 
that ; and being an Eskimo, he was a friend. 
Allockeok’s heart warmed at thought of that. 
He had not yet caught sight of his friend. 
Waste, who followed on his trail, but now he 
did not feel so terribly alone. 

Now and again he glanced behind him 
where the herd of five hundred reindeer were 
feeding. He had hoped by this time to be 
resting near them, while his dogs kept them 
from further wanderings. But conditions had 
changed. Since the Indian was not in sight, 
he began watching the movements of the 
young Eskimo from the wild country, as he 
climbed the higher ridges. He wondered if 
the Indians had seen him ; if he was in peril ; 
if he should fire a shot to warn him. 

This boy seemed to be scanning the hills 
this way and that, as if looking for something. 
Could it be that he had sighted the Indians and 
was looking for them ? 


CARIBOU 


217 


No, a second’s glance down at the tundra 
gave him the answer. A small herd of rein- 
deer, foreign to his own herd, were cracking 
their heels down the hill to join his larger 
herd. Reason told him that this herd be- 
longed to the strange Eskimo; that having 
scented the larger herd, they had stampeded 
toward them. 

One deer in this herd stood out as a leader. 
He was two hands taller than any of his mates, 
and his antlers branched like the top of a tree. 
He had the height of a caribou, but the broad- 
ness and strength of a reindeer. Allockeok 
gazed at him in admiration. Never in all his 
life as a herder had he seen such a wonderful 
creature. 

“Half -reindeer, haK-caribou,” he mur- 
mured. 

But at that moment his eye was caught by 
the strange actions of the Eskimo. He was 
standing on the ridge. With hands raised 
in a gesture of despair, he was gazing away at 
the herds which appeared to be about to 
join. 

This gesture of despair puzzled Allockeok. 


218 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


There was nothing so terrible about the 
joining of a small herd with a larger one. 
All reindeer were carefully marked. The 
building of a brush corral and cutting out of 
the visitor’s reindeer would take but two days 
of pleasant toil; or the smaller herd might 
remain for an indefinite time with the larger 
one ; the ownership would not be changed. 

As he saw the gesture a question entered his 
mind. Could this Eskimo be from some band 
other than his own, where laws were different ? 
The thought affected him strangely. 

Then he saw the Eskimo turn and gaze 
intently behind him. The object which had 
attracted his attention was hid from Alloc- 
keok’s view by the hill, but as he looked and 
listened, he caught a faint sound like the rush 
of a distant waterfall. 

‘‘Caribou ! ” he murmured. “Many, many 
caribou ! ” 


CHAPTER XVI 

A STRANGE BATTLE 

When Waste awoke after an hour of sleep 
that had been intense as unconscious stupor, 
he found the dizzy sickness gone. He felt 
now able to travel and thought at once of his 
herder, Allockeok. 

After a hasty lunch of hard-tack and frozen 
venison, he harnessed his reindeer. But at 
this juncture he paused to debate the same 
problem which had perplexed the wild Eskimo 
boy, and he finally came to the same conclu- 
sion : it was better to climb to the peak of a 
high foothill and try to discover from that 
vantage point the position of the Indians, 
the reindeer herd and Allockeok. 

He had not gone a dozen steps in that direc- 
tion when something casting back the moon- 
light with a golden glow attracted his atten- 
tion. It was one of the Eskimo boy’s arrows. 


220 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


Instantly he recognized it as coming from the 
wild tribe which he had visited. 

Tucking the copper-pointed arrow beneath 
the canvas of his sled, he went on with a lighter 
heart. If a tribe of these people was near, he 
felt sure that they might be counted on as 
his allies. 

The hill he chanced to climb was the high- 
est one of the region. Hardly had he mounted 
it than he sighted the Eskimo boy. Standing 
on another hill, the boy was shading his eyes 
and gazing away in the direction from which 
they had come. In wonder. Waste gazed 
with him, and with increasing wonder he 
continued to gaze. Down through the nar- 
row valley appeared to be pouring a liquid 
stream of brown. And now the sound same 
to him, — a sound as of a rushing waterfall. 
But he was no more deceived than the wild 
boy had been. This, he told himself, was a 
multitudinous host of caribou. They were 
returning from the barren-ground, summer 
pastures to the willow-grown, moss-covered 
valley of the upper Yukon. 

But quickly Waste’s mind was called back 


A STRANGE BATTLE 


221 


to the business at hand. The reindeer herd ! 
Was it still on the tundra ? And if it were, 
would the passing herd of caribou swallow 
it up and bear it along; or would there be 
a pitched battle between herds? Allockeok, 
his herder, — where was he ? 

It was a strange sight which met his eyes 
as he turned to look in the other direction. 
Two miles or so in the distance the reindeer 
herd was still quietly feeding. But in the 
foreground, as if enacting a moving-picture 
drama, were a score or more of Indians and 
one Eskimo boy, Allockeok. 

Allockeok was still lying in ambush waiting 
for the Indians. The single Indian, also in 
ambush, still camped on his trail; while to 
the right, apparently stalking the reindeer 
herd, was the main body of the Indian 
band. 

And now Allockeok, the herder, lifted his 
head to listen. Now he, for the first time, 
saw his friend. Waste. He waved a signal 
of joy. But he had heard, too, the clash of 
the antlered host of caribou. The single 
Indian also had heard, for he turned half 


222 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


about to listen. Then the band of Indians 
heard and paused, as if undecided. So they 
all stood waiting in the moonlight, — Soo- 
look, Allockeok, Waste, the single Indian and 
the Indian band. 

Waste dropped upon the snow and leveled 
his rifle. The single Indian had not seen him, 
was well within the range of his powerful rifle. 
The boy’s finger was on the trigger ; the bead 
was over the Indian’s heart. He was a villain, 
well deserved to die; the scene at the aged 
miner’s cabin had told that. Yet Waste had 
never killed a fellow man ; he could not do it 
now. So, still covering the man that he might 
protect Allockeok, he waited the next move 
in this strange drama. 

As the great herd of caribou came rushing 
on, the Indian band appeared to change their 
plans of operation. Sneaking back to some 
low ridges of snow, which would hide them 
from the caribou, they dropped down and lay 
there motionless. The caribou would pass 
close to them. The smash of bullets from 
high-power rifles at that distance must wreak 
great havoc among the dense masses. Waste 


A STRANGE BATTLE 


223 


hoped that they might be satisfied with their 
killings from the wild herd. 

But even when the vanguard came opposite 
them, the Indians did not fire, but appeared 
to watch for the outcome of the meeting of the 
wild herd with the tame. 

‘‘Perhaps they have dreams of capturing 
the reindeer and turning herders,” thought 
Waste. 

Now and then as he watched them he de- 
tected in the actions of the reindeer signs of 
disturbance. Now one shook his antlers and 
sprang to his feet ; now another, and another. 
And now they left off feeding to turn about 
and face in the direction of the caribou hosts. 

Questions flashed through his mind. Quite 
forgetting the Indians, Waste thought of the 
reindeer alone. Would they stand and await 
the arrival of the great herd? Would they 
then quietly join it, swelling the mass, as the 
waters of a creek swell the body of a river? 
Or would they stampede ? Would there be a 
fight? 

“If they should stampede,” he whispered. 
“If they only would ! ” 


224 SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 

And now the critical moment had arrived. 
The vanguard of the mammoth herd, a hun- 
dred stalwart bulls, with wide-spreading antlers 
and heavy shoulders, had come within sight 
of the reindeer. They were yet half a mile 
away, but he thought he detected a slacken- 
ing of their pace. And, yes, there came the 
clash of antler on antler, as the caribou 
crowded upon one another. It was like a vast 
army when the command “Halt!” had been 
passed down the line. 

At last the whole herd stood at attention, 
while the hundred or more of the great bulls 
pawed the snow, shook their antlers and bel- 
lowed a challenge. 

“It’s a fight,” he murmured. 

But now a strange thing happened. Per- 
haps it had never happened before, — may 
never happen again. Perhaps it happens 
many times each year in the barren lands 
where no human eye is witness. 

A great bull, half a hand taller than any 
of his companions, stepped majestically out 
from the caribou hosts. Still bellowing his 
challenge, he stood there, a splendid object 


A STRANGE BATTLE 


225 


in the moonlight. And from the little band 
beyond there almost instantly appeared an- 
other champion. 

As he stepped forth, bellowing an answer- 
ing challenge, Waste caught his breath. Not 
from the five hundred came this champion, 
but from Soolook’s little herd of twenty-four, 
which had so recently joined them. This was 
a prize bull, the strongest, the best. 

He was five years old, was this buck, — 
just in his prime. Waste’s heart swelled with 
hope at sight of this champion. His breath 
came short and quick, as the animal moved 
/ forward to battle. Through his mind ran 
stories he had read of David and Goliath, 
and of Sohrab and Rustum in the fog of the 
Oxus Stream. 

There was no mad rushing on as these 
champions approached each other. There 
were baitings and many bellows. When, 
at last, they stood with heads lowered for 
battle, their antlers seemed merely to touch 
and part again like crossing of swords. Many 
a pair of splendid bucks have been found with 
antlers locked in the clamp of death. Per- 


226 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


haps these wise ones had at one time or another 
barely escaped such a death. At any rate, 
they stood there for a second. Then the 
bull caribou, being more alert, stepped to one 
side and lunged at the half-reindeer’s flank. 
The blow was easily side-stepped and a 
counter-blow executed, from which the other 
narrowly escaped. 

There followed more pawing and bellow- 
ing. The clash of antlers from the herds 
echoing down the valleys seemed applause for 
each champion. 

Then the half-reindeer plunged with little 
effect. But the countercharge caught him 
in the thigh and sent him limping backward. 
The flrst blood had been drawn. 

But this, in no way affrighting the active 
bull, seemed only to give him shrewdness and 
prowess. Time after time the other charged. 
Time after time the reindeer side-stepped 
without offering a counter-thrust. 

Waste watched with open-mouthed wonder, 
yet not without a thought for other things. 
How was this all to end? Casting an eye 
now and then toward the wild Eskimo boy. 


A STRANGE BATTLE 


m 

he saw him do strange things. Once he tested 
the hard-packed snow with his spear, then 
adjusted a pair of ski to his feet. And once 
he tightened a strap. Then again he ar- 
ranged his arrows in their quiver and grasped 
his short copper-pointed spear. 

But now the moment arrived when the half- 
reindeer would try his own powers. Once, 
twice, three times in mad, whirling succession, 
he charged the flanks of the half-exhausted 
caribou. And the third blow found its mark. 
With a roar of deflance and anguish the wild 
champion went down. 

But now he was up again and charging 
wildly. Three more charges, and he was down 
again. 

Waste, casting a glance in the direction of 
Soolook, saw him standing upon his ski. 
Balancing himself with his copper spear, he 
seemed about to enter the combat. 

“What wild action of his does he think will 
save the day for our herd?” Waste thought. 

But at that moment a sound smote his ear 
which sent the cold chills shooting up his 
spine. Was it the cry of wild beast or wild 


228 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


man ? Turning to look in the direction from 
whence it came, he saw innumerable gray 
streaks dashing across the hill. 

“Wolves !” he exclaimed. 

In a second all was changed. A great pack 
of white timber wolves, having heard the 
clatter of hoof and antler, had hurried over 
the hills to prey upon the caribou. 

Suddenly, out of the stillness which followed 
the one prolonged howl, a rifle cracked. An 
Indian had fired a shot; whether at wolf 
or caribou, or at the wild Eskimo, who could 
now be seen flying down the hill on the wings 
of the wind. Waste could not tell. But 
however that might be, it was a fatal shot for 
the Indians, for at once they were surrounded 
and attacked by the hunger-maddened wolf- 
pack. It was apparent that they had been 
taken completely by surprise. At close range 
they were no match for the terrible fangs. 
One by one they went down. 

Turning his eyes from the gruesome scene. 
Waste turned once more toward the herds 
and their champions. 

The fallen caribou had regained his footing. 


A STRANGE BATTLE 


229 


Again he attacked. But this time it was with 
the blind fury of defeat. He charged straight 
on and, before his antagonist could swerve to 
right or left, drove his antlers with such force 
into the other’s horny mass that the two were 
wedged inseparably together, and both, bel- 
lowing and pawing, now with hoofs high in 
air and now tearing at snow and moss, rolled 
upon the ground. 

Meanwhile, the rattle of a thousand 
antlers grew more clamorous. Evidently the 
herd was preparing to again set itself in 
motion. 

Whether the wild Eskimo boy had antici- 
pated all this Waste could not tell; but one 
thing was sure, he was on the spot at almost 
the instant the caribou made his last mad 
thrust. And, as they fell, tumbling and paw- 
ing, watching every opening, he thrust out 
with his spear. 

When presently the caribou lay motionless, 
a few neat blows on the antlers freed his prize 
and sent him back to his herd in triumph. 

Then it was that the wild boy, with his 
collie yelping by his side, went through a 


230 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


set of wild leaps and gyrations such as are 
known only to the Eskimo; went through 
them too with such energy that they sent the 
reindeer herd crashing over the hills in one 
direction and the caribou hosts in the other. 

Seeing this, both Allockeok and Waste, 
lashing their deer into motion, went shooting 
along in the trail of the wild boy and their 
herd, leaving the few remaining Indians to 
make the best of a bad piece of business, and 
the caribou to disappear in the distance. 

Three hours later they came up with the 
herd, which had settled down again to feed- 
ing. Waste was not surprised to find that 
the wild boy who watched them was no other 
than his old friend Soolook. His actions had 
half told him that. 

And now, at last, Soolook was face to face 
with the mysterious stranger with a means of 
communicating his thoughts to him; for it 
took him no time at all to learn that Allockeok 
could speak not only the Eskimo language but 
that of the pale-faced stranger as well. 

He refused to drink the coffee which Waste 
now prepared, still believing it to be a magic 


A STRANGE BATTLE 


231 


potion. But, as the others ate and drank, 
he asked questions of Waste. And Waste, 
being wise in the ways of the wild people and 
knowing their limited powers of understand- 
ing, did not tell him that coffee was not a 
magic potion; that gold disks were money; 
that the terrible creature with the screeching 
voice and glowing eye was only an engine 
running on the track, and not the Kabluna 
at all. He did tell him that he, himself, was 
a Kabluna ; that Kabluna meant the same as 
Alongmeet, which, in turn, meant white man. 
He also told him that they did kill at a dis- 
tance with a magic of great noise, as he him- 
self had seen, and that they did many other 
wonderful things. But, as for size, he him- 
self was as large as most of his race, and when 
it came to eyes, all his people had two of them, 
except when an accident put one of them out. 
He did say, “Leave your little herd with ours. 
It will still belong to you ; and come with us. 
We will show you many strange things. We 
will show you that which kills the minute you 
touch it. We will show you that which could 
crush ten men and still move on its way. And 


232 


SOOLOOK, WILD BOY 


we will show you how, in the midst of all these 
wonders, our people live in safety because all 
these monsters do our bidding.” 

And Soolook said : 

“It is a wonderful magic. I will go.” 















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